


In My Fires You Shall Burn

by Yngvildr the Voracious (Yngvildr_the_Voracious)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Crossover Pairings, Dysfunctional Family, Grown up badass Pansy Parkinson!, Harry Potter/Asoiaf Crossover, Hogwarts AU, I doubt I'll manage to make one..., Multi, NO PROPER ENDING!, Teens gone wild, Was originally a one shot, Went out of hand...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yngvildr_the_Voracious/pseuds/Yngvildr%20the%20Voracious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor enters Wizarding School and somehow makes friends. Spoiler alert: Gregor does not approve. </p><p>WARNING: I have 50k words of this and no proper ending. Please read at your own risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, it means that you've clicked to read a story even as you were pointedly reminded that this story has no proper ending. 
> 
> I started to have a plot and fleshed out a group of friends in the world of Harry Potter... Except that since I hadn't planned anything, I can't bring myself to end it. I can promise you I tried, it's been a year now and the story hasn't changed since Summer 2014. However, this is probably the best story I ever wrote, so I had to share it. Especially since I wrote 50 effin k words outside of NaNoWriMo when I always struggle to hit the 10k mark...
> 
> So please, try to enjoy but don't be frustrated when it seems to end on a shitty cliffhanger I was too lazy to resolve.

“I can’t believe you’re sending it, Minerva…” her deputy chirped with his lilted voice. “Have you even seen that giant monster of a boy?” he added, sounding furious.

 

Minerva carefully folded the parchment inked with elegantly scrawled green letters.

 

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_(Order of Merlin, Second Class, President of the CHAT,_

_former High Chairwoman of Experimental Transfiguration of the International Wizarding College )_

_Dear Mr. Clegane,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 

“Minerva, please, I beg of you.” Filius Flitwick said. “Do not send this letter to this boy.”

“Filius, nothing will change my mind.” the old woman answered. “I already weighted the pros and the cons and decided that no, I won’t deny young Gregor the chance to realise his potential in Hogwarts based on some assumption your Ministry friends might have about him being a natural at Dark Magic…”

“Minerva…”

“Stop it, Professor Flitwick!” Headmistress McGonagall snapped.

 

Her cold and stern stare fixed her deputy, friend and colleague of many years before she said:

 

“I will not make assumptions about an eleven years old young boy’s character just because he happens to have cast a curse during one of his magical accidents.” she said, staring down at the Charms professor.

“It was an Unforgivable Curse…”

“And he was cleared of all charges because he wasn’t consciously doing it.” Minerva told him. “His father had been conveniently and precisely obliviated of the memory and his whole family thinks that Gregor merely pushed his mother down the stairs.”

 

The diminutive Charms teacher crossed his arms and stubbornly insisted:

 

“I am convinced that this boy is deranged and will not fit in Hogwarts.” Filius Flitwick countered.

 

Minerva deposited the letter on her desk and stared at the adress on the envelope beside it.

 

_Mr Gregor Clegane_

_7 Loch Lann Road_

_Culloden, Highland_

 

The woman sighed. This name was really starting to become so hard to look at that she couldn’t help but sigh, sit down on her chair and remove her glasses to rub her eyes probably bloodshot with fatigue.

 

The Ministry had sent a warning upon consulting the Registre without the express consent of the Headmistress and learning he was going to enter his first year.

Then of course, the Board of Governors had learned of Mr Clegane’s arrival and some of them had been pretty vocal about denying the boy education.

 

“What if there’s another accident when he’s lacking the proper instruction Hogwarts can provide him.” she had asked. “He has a young brother and sister. What will happen then when a boy and a girl ‘fall down the stairs’ and die?”

 

Mrs Astoria Malfoy had the audacity to raise a knowing eyebrow and smirk and then finally gave her the full story of the Clegane family the day after in the privacy of the Headmistress’ office.

 

The Avada Kedavra wasn’t the first strangely destructive curse young Gregor had casted in his Muggle neighbourhood.

 

“In fact his mother was a witch and sought to contain his growing powers.” Astoria had confided. “She gave her life for that. However, she stopped a lot of attempts at her family’s life at the hands of her son before paying the ultimate price.”

 

A picture of a young boy was included in the file Astoria kindly reproduced for her.

 

“When they were five and eight and the little girl was just born,” Astoria started. “The youngest, Sandor, was playing with a toy his elder had long discarded. According to Mrs Clegane, Gregor had his brother pinned, his face on the floor.”

 

Minerva found it hard to look at the picture of the horribly scarred five years old and placed the horrifying picture back into the folder.

 

“The boy was sent to St Mungo, but they couldn’t do anything for the scars, he’ll bear them for life.” Astoria said. “See the shape. It’s Gregor’s hand. He was holding his brother down with his hand and it was alight with Fiendfyre. That’s when Moira first asked for help. The second time she asked, Sandor had thrown his big brother into a lake with his own powers after he threatened the baby girl. Their mother was afraid he would show the same signs. It was a simple Levitation spell, though, not a complex or dark one so they just watch him on the side while focusing on Gregor...”

“Do they...?”

“Yes. Though the father specifically asked to be Obliviated and now thinks that the boy’s bed caught fire. He asked it everytime there was an accident in fact. I think he just wants to be blissfully ignorant and happy. I never met a Muggle so wise and so loving of his children he’d prefer to forget...”

 

So when Gregor’s time to go to Hogwart’s came, Minerva was torn. And just as she had decided to let the boy in, she had to deal with her usually trusting Filius to play the role she had filled so much when she was in his shoes and Albus Dumbledore filled hers.

 

“Gregor Clegane’s siblings are both witches and wizards.” she finally sighed. “If they go to Hogwarts and Gregor doesn’t… What will he do to them out of jealousy?” she asked her colleague.

 

Filius seemed to finally understand…

 

“So you want to keep an eye on Gregor and drown him in a mass of his peers so his family aren’t the only ones to suffer…”

“And hopefully smother that cruelty of his through a normal childhood, yes.” Minerva added.

“Children can be cruel, you remember that, dear?” Filius remarked.

“Oh yes.” the Headmistress said. “Also, considering the circumstances, Mr Clegane’s letter won’t be delivered by a faculty member but rather by a Ministry Official. He’s been hired to watch Gregor during his early school years and determine if he is a danger to the other children.

 

Filius let out a deep sigh mirroring that of Minerva. They were both tired, working overnight in this early July. Minerva handed Filius his stack of letters.

 

“Here.” she said. “Your Muggleborns. Since you’re here, I can hand them out already.”

“Just one question…” Filius asked before leaving, the levitating pile of letters hovering above his head. “Since Moira Clegane was a witch, will Gregor’s younger siblings meet a faculty member delivering the letter or will they receive it through the mail?”

“It is considered an exception that Gregor receives his letter by a member of the Ministry and not through an owl, indeed.” Minerva noted. “If Sandor or Aenor prove to be dangerous, I think the Ministry of Magic will indeed repeat the process. Why?”

“I think they should get the chance to talk about their brother, is all…” Filius said.

“Something their Heads of House can handle.” Minerva drawled in a yawn she didn’t have the energy to stiffle.

“I’m sorry I kept you awake like the old bugger I am, Minnie.” Filius excused himself. “I’m leaving now. Good night.”

“Good night, Fil.”

 

When the door closed, Minerva McGonagall fell back into her chair and turned around to face her predecessor’s portraits. She studied them carefully. She knew Albus Dumbledore would consider her decision a good one and Severus Snape, her former colleague looking somber hidden behind his curtains of oil and canvas, would laud her thought process and her additionnal security measures. Armando Dippet, the one she knew as a girl would have cowered under the Ministry’s demands and Gregor Clegane would probably be in a prison of sorts for the murder he commited. His family would be one member lesser, but probably breathing a less foul air.

 

The letter adressed to Mr. Gregor Clegane ( _7 Loch Lann Road, Culloden, Highland_ ) was alone beside the three piles of letters that were to be assigned to the Hogwarts teachers. Three months later, when Gregor Clegane was sorted into Slytherin, the Headmistress didn’t clap.

  
Minerva McGonagall upon finally seeing the young man’s eyes was persuaded that Gregor Clegane would be the next Dark Wizard to rise to power.


	2. Chapter 2

Sandor was running and running.

 

When Gregor boarded the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9 ¾ in London, Sandor was happy to have him gone. Now he wasn’t so sure he wanted Gregor to learn new spells. Even then he didn’t need any to kill her.

 

_He killed her. Oh sweet God and Merlin, he killed her._

 

Sandor stopped in the middle of the road, his lungs burning. He didn’t know how far he ran, really. He just did. He couldn’t take it anymore. All the lies, all of Dad’s ignorance and insistence at forgetting everything everytime. Every fucking time!

 

On one side of the road, a car stopped. The man inside shouted something at Sandor, but the boy didn’t listen. Fuck him. Fuck everyone, the boy thought, conjuring every schoolyard swear he knew to spit them at the grown up who didn’t think a nine year old should be alone, at night on the road to Inverness, blissfully empty at this hour of the night save for this lone driver who hurriedly left.

 

He could still see it. The fight. Aenor wanting to stop it. She was five years old and ten times braver than both her big brothers, Sandor realised. He should have done it. He should have protected her. Then Gregor wouldn’t have pushed her.

 

What an irony. The first truly fatal fall in the house that wasn’t a lie. Sandor started to laugh, he didn’t know why and it rang hollow and creepy even to his ears. When he heard footsteps behind him, Sandor Clegane turned around, ready to lash out a second time, but he recognized Mr Lannister.

 

At least he understood. Mostly because he was a wizard and was there to watch Gregor and lock him away if he did Dark Magic again. Gregor hadn’t even touched his wand though. He did it the Muggle way. Probably because Gregor wanted to finish Hogwarts. He wasn’t the brute he appeared to be. He was cunning and Mr Lannister had understood that. He closed the distance between Sandor and himself and his hand reached the boy’s shoulder.

 

“Say the word, boy and I’ll take you away from him.”

 

A water drop landed on Sandor’s sensitive scar. It was going to rain like in a bad movie now. He didn’t know if that made him want to cry or laugh again. So he said:

 

“Please. I don’t wanna live with him anymore.”

Jaime Lannister squeezed his hand onto the boy’s shoulder and, without even a warning, Apparated them away.

 

*

*       *

*

 

 _Not with Gregor. Not with Gregor. I don’t want to have anything to do with this… This_ beast.

_Well… I can respect that. I see this hatred in you. I see how you want to make him pay for what he’s done, but tell me... Is it the only thing you want?_

 

Sandor thought of Aenor, of how he should have protected her, how he wished he had a tenth of her courage and he was still sitting on the stool, immobile when Deputy Headmaster Flitwick removed the shouting hat from his head, uncovering the ugly burns on his smooth round face.

 

 _There is my Lion..._ The Sorting Hat had whispered to his head while it shouted his house for all to hear.

 

Sandor Clegane gave one last look at the Slytherin table where his (sort of) friend Joffrey was already chatting up with everyone, his golden hair shining under the candlelight. Sandor stood up and slowly walked toward the Gryffindor table. At the table, a lot of people were offering fake smiles masking their disgusted scowls. Sandor sighed and seated himself next to a red haired older girl who didn’t offer him any and greeted him with thoughtful eyes.

 

“Welcome to Gryffindor.” she said with a strong Highlands accent.

“Thanks.” Sandor gruffly answered before turning to witness the rest of the Sorting. When Daenerys Targaryen, James Potter, Roxanne Weasley, Thomas Pratchett and Elizabeth Ngijol joined their house, he was greeted with a smile by the first three, a frightened scowl by Pratchett and wide dumbstruck eyes by the last. He put her in the box of the crazy persons who thought it cool to have been hurt and lived to be scarred and tell an awesome tale about battling a dragon or something. Joffrey had been like that when Mr. Lannister had sent him to live with his sister’s family and they were far more exhausting than others that shunned him in disgust or showered him with pity.

 

“Don’t stare. It’s rude.” Daenerys said to the Ngijol girl, harshly.

“Actually I don’t care.” Sandor interrupting his meal to stare at the girls. “Get a big eyeful, get used to it right now, we’re gonna be housemates for seven years. Don’t want anyone to piss her pants on my account.” he added, even more aggressively than the Dragon Handler’s daughter.

“Calm down Little Mountain.” an older boy told him. “We’re watching you.”

“Little Mountain?” Potter asked.

“Everybody calls his big brother the Mountain.” the older boy answered. “He’s a nasty son of a skrewt…” he added.

 

Sandor let them talk and ate in silence before following the other students to the Gryffindor Common Room and dormitories. He listened to the welcoming speech by the prefects and before they were all ushered in the dormitories, he grabbed the older’s student’s sleeve.

 

“What do you want, Little Mountain?”

 

Sandor looked at this boy a foot taller than him and probably a third or four year and said in a hiss.

 

“I don’t know how I’ll do it yet, but if you’re calling me Little Mountain again, I will kill you.”

 

The boy’s face blanched and he muttered something in agreement before fleeing to his bed. In the First Year’s dormitory, James Potter and Thomas Pratchett were already unpacking their nightwear and only Potter bade them good night, silence the only answer to his courteous manners.

 

*

*       *

*

 

By the next day, everybody knew that Sandor Clegane was indeed Gregor’s brother and everybody was muttering behind his back about his burns, how he was as ruthless as Gregor or how he had threatened to kill a fellow student in their own Common Room.

Sandor was disgusted with himself of course. He should have just explained that he didn’t like his brother. However, the “why” that would have inevitably followed the statement was still too raw for him to answer. Actually, Sandor doubted he’d ever tell anyone. However, Joffrey was not too bad a friend and the boy let it slip that Sandor was living with him ever since his sister died in a fall down the stairs.

 

“He was devastated when she died.” he heard his friend tell a couple of cute Ravenclaw second years. “He needed to be far away from his home and I understand that. Who would like to spend anymore time with such a violent big brother…”

 

Sandor was grateful for Joffrey’s intervention. His uncle and him were probably the only persons that actually helped him in this school. Well, Daenerys helped him with his Potions assignment, but that didn’t count. Dany was a Potions genius and was tutoring the six first years in the class like a pro already. The Gryffindor were going through the tedious homework assigned by Mrs Pansy Bancroft in no time thanks to the Dragon Handler’s daughter. His calm demeanor in class, though with manners a bit lacking helped him build a good reputation that made the mutterings about his alleged violent tendencies die down, replaced with one last question… How had little Sandor Clegane been so badly burnt? Why wasn’t he covering the scars up with some ointment or a spell?

Strangely, it was Elizabeth that came to his defense when they heard two sixth year gossiping.

 

“Do you think he’s actually the one that did it and not The Mountain… It’s not natural to be so calm at eleven…”

“And he’s the ugly one, I bet he was the one who threw the sister down the st…”

“ **SHUT UP!** ” the Gryffindor, a girl of eleven, had yelled in the middle of the library to the sixteen years old witches, making Thomas, James, Dany, Sandor and Roxanne snap their necks at her outburst.

“Shut up and don’t talk about what you don’t know!” Elizabeth continued. “Sandor is nice and he’s good looking enough when you’re used to it and if you don’t watch your mouth and continue to talk shit, I’ll give you some burns, you little tarts!”

 

Of course, the elderly librarian Mr Pycelle had to shoo her from the library and the group had to find an empty classroom to finish the Potions homework together. Elizabeth looked sullen and her lips pouted somewhat adorably. When they were again hunched over their parchment, Sandor though that it had to be said:

 

“Thank you Beth.”

Elizabeth turned beet red and muttered something that sounded pretty much like _“you’re welcome”_ and returned to work.


	3. Chapter 3

His first summer _home_ had been short. He spent two weeks there until Gregor became restless and started to rant. It was only a matter of time before something broke and his little brother didn’t feel brave enough to suffer through two months of holidays with him and Dad.

Sandor spent the week-end at the Potters at James' behest and then stayed with the Baratheons until Cersei, Joffrey’s mother, gently made him understand that he was not welcome anymore. He stayed long enough to write to his Gryffindor friends, asking if he could spend some time with them and planning it carefully so he didn’t have to go back to Culloden.

Thankfully, Pratchett’s Muggle family left him alone for a week in their Brighton flat and they bonded over video games and swimming in the Channel. They also ate a lot of ice cream. Thomas thought it funny now when Sandor shouted “Booh” at babies to make them cry, but Sandor stopped when he did it to a little girl with grey eyes like his sister’s. Making his friend laugh wasn’t worth making an innocent little girl cry.

Daenerys’ home was a bit scary with all the dragonhide furniture everywhere and her brother was creeping him out with his stories of dragonfire induced burns, but at least Dany helped him trudge through his summer homework during the week he spent at her manse in Wales.

Viserys then kindly apparated him at Elizabeth Ngijol’s tiny, crowded suburban house in Croydon and there Sandor helped take care of her many, many littler siblings. Her parents even decided to give him Muggle money and great thanks for helping baby sitting infants for two weeks while both parents worked two jobs.

 

“If you need help, then maybe I could… You know… Come back next summer.” he asked shyly the mother of seven when she handed him fifty pounds in bills.

“You’re an angel, Sandor.” Mrs. Ngijol said in her lilting voice, bowing over him to caress his good cheek with a  huge and white toothy smile. “Of course you’re welcome. Elizabeth told us about your mean brother so if you need to get away a bit, give us a call or send one of those owls of yours and we’ll open the door.”

 

She patted his shoulder and left Sandor and Elizabeth beneath the sign she recognized as a VCR repair shop’s. The little wizards though, entered the Leaky Cauldron and were soon assaulted by their friends, mostly by Roxanne who presented her parents to him: A nice couple who spoke about how eager they were to host him and how they hoped he’d be comfortable at their place before the kids went back to school.

 

As the six Gryffindors were shopping, joking and having fun, Sandor couldn’t help but feel happy. Yes Thomas and James were arseholes sometimes. Yes Elizabeth was a bit clingy and she was talking all the time, Roxanne was really too shy and not as confident as Dany who was really bossy and a workaholic. Sandor, well, he was gruff, rude, homeless and scarred. However, they were twelve years old and they were happy.

  


*

*       *

*

  


Sandor was twelve years old and he was miserable. He couldn’t believe it. Even that, Gregor took it from him. It wasn’t enough that he took away Mum and Aenor. Now he was taking away Quidditch too.

“It’s for your safety, Mr. Clegane.” Professor Longbottom had said.

 

The Headmistress had given the student a stern stare when he opened his mouth to say… Well, he’d have probably just cursed and insulted them anyway and earned a detention so he was actually grateful for old McGonagall’s legendary stare. His friends waiting for him outside the Headmaster’s office went from hopeful to deflated when they saw their friend exit with sadness in his eyes and an angry line on his twisted half burnt lips.

On their way back to the common room, they respected their friend’s silence, even Chatterbox Beth. Sandor was grateful. Professor Longbottom had also agreed to notify Martell why the beater he chose couldn’t play so he didn’t stop and crossed the Common Room to their dormitories.

The hardest part was actually watching the matches, knowing that if Gregor hadn’t been on the Slytherin team already, Sandor could have played.

 

“I mean, couldn’t he have another hobby, I don’t know, Gobstones.” Elizabeth ranted. “Or Chess! As if he wouldn’t like Wizarding Chess. The brute is so violent he’d get a Muggle set just so he could smash the pieces himself.”

 

Sandor was grateful for her support as he watched the game, trying to cheer for Gryffindor unsuccessfully. He saw James catch the Quaffle and zip at an incredible speed to the Slytherin goals where he missed thanks to a Bludger expertly handled by Boros Blount, Joffrey’s new friend.

The Gryffindor lost two hundred to fifty and Sandor knew why. The beater that had been taken in his stead…

 

“I mean, he sucks balls, Oberyn!” Ygritte Aiden yelled in the Common Room in her thick Highlands accent. “Why is Longbottom sabotaging our chances to win the Cup, it’s unfair!” she added, looking like she was on fire.

 

And for Ygritte, the very first Gryffindor that ever talked to him, to be this furious, it took deep levels of sucking balls. Sandor almost felt sorry for Gryff Connington. Judging by his looks, he’d be a good replacement for Oberyn when he’ll leave school and his post as a Seeker next year. He was just not a Beater just like the others that had tried to fill Arianne Martell’s shoes: most of them didn’t even know how to fly their brooms properly. Gnats, the scarred boy called them.

 

“Professor Longbottom’s our Head of House. It’s not normal… But… There must be very serious reasons...” Jon Stark said purposefully trying to avoid the Second Year students' glares.

 

Sandor tried to continue to read his book. He had borrowed  _Quidditch Throughout the Ages_ and wanted to finish it since it would be a waste to give it back while he hadn’t read even half of it.

He had looked forward to it so much. Mum wasn't keen on gallivanting around on a broom but she always talked about how Quidditch was the number one Wizarding Sport and that young boys and girls were supposed to be harassing their parents for the latest broom. She even brought them to a match once. It was loud, people stared at his scars and tried to stay away from Gregor, giving the little angry boy a wide berth, but Sandor didn’t care. He only wanted to be old enough to be on a broom and play.

Now he was and he couldn’t. Dad had even sent him a broom he had ordered with a note trying to apologize for that awful week, prompting Gregor to stare and sneer a bit more than usual whenever they crossed paths in the corridors.

This was all his fault. Sandor thought, his knuckles turning white around the borrowed book at the thought of his monstrous brother.  _And he won’t stop until you’re dead_ .

The discussion had continued around him and James Potter, really pissed, was making a fool of himself in front of Martell.

The sight of James, of his black tousled hair gave him an idea and he closed the book. He left to his rooms, retrieved parchment, quill and ink and started writing. It was hard, though, but he knew he had to write it down lest he said the exact contrary and made a terrible enemy. Then, he scribbled a note to his Dad to let him know of the situation and how to contact the Headmistress. Then, he looked at the clock to confirm this was after curfew. Good. He’d have time to think this through as the worst idea Sandor Tytos Clegane ever had.

 

However, it was hard during the whole double Potions with the Slytherin class not to notice how Joffrey avoided him and stayed safely between Boros Blount and Meryn Trant. He recognized them both as the lone sons of families of good wizarding standing like the Lannisters or the Blacks. “Purebloods” they’d call themselves, he knew. Though now they prefered saying “Old Blood” or “Noble blood”. Mum didn’t have the time to see them grow up to speak her mind, but James and Roxanne called them stupid and inbred. Dany didn’t call them anything, but even Elizabeth and Thomas knew the Targaryen were even more fond of incest than the Flint and the Black families put together.

Thinking about this made Sandor add a post-scriptum to his letter asking his father’s his Mum’s maiden name. Could never hurt to know, he thought, trying not to  smudge tattoo bile on the parchment. When the bell rang and Mrs Bancroft released her students, Sandor told his friends that he’d join them in the Great Hall for lunch and he made his way toward Joffrey Baratheon.

 

“Hey, Joff.”

“Hey Clegane.” the blonde boy answered with a smile Sandor didn’t like at all.

 

Trant and Blount were around him looking menacing, but Sandor was taller than them, if a bit lanky.

 

“I was wondering if I could talk to you.” Sandor asked.

 

Joff’s green eyes didn’t mirror the tone of his voice.

 

“Is this about my mother?” he asked, sounding embarrassed. “I’m sorry she asked you to leave. But you know… You don’t keep a good company so…”

 

Sandor sighed.

 

“That’s okay. If you don’t want to talk to your old mate, it’s no big deal…” he managed to say, keeping his calm, albeit with difficulty.

 

The two boys had fun when they were eager to go to Hogwarts, but even then, Sandor didn’t have the illusion that they had anything in common other than “Uncle Jaime”. He just thought that maybe he could try and have an ally, especially since Joffrey helped dismiss the worst of the rumours last year.

 

“If it’s about Quidditch… Well, I’m afraid it’s not my mother’s fault, but rather mine, though, Clegane.” Joffrey said as Sandor was prepared to leave them.

“What?” the Gryffindor asked in an incredulous rasp.

“Well, we played Quidditch so much when you were living at home and I knew how I could remove you from the team so Slytherin was awarded the cup so I seized the opportunity…” Joffrey explained, not sounding or looking the least bit apologetic. In fact he actually looked... triumphant. His two goons looked equally smug as the corridor emptied itself, everybody going to the Great Hall for supper.

“My mother talks about her work in the board of Governors sometimes and she often has tea with Astoria Malfoy.” Joffrey teased further. “They had interesting discussions when Gregor and you were receiving your letters of acceptance. I just had to whisper a few words about my concerns for my dear friend Sandor who would most probably enter the Quidditch pitch and fall into his dangerous big bad brother’s trap…”

 

Sandor was dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe it. He wanted to take this bastard by the neck and slap his face so hard, his head would leave his shoulders and land on Mount Fuji.

 

“Hey, Sandor?!” he heard behind him.

 

It was Roxanne. She was looking a bit worried and she stuttered a bit when she asked:

 

“Hmm… Are you coming? I mean, the others are waiting!”

“Yeah. Sure.” Sandor anwered.

 

They walked in the dungeons corridors together until they heard Joff, Meryn and Boros’ steps fade in direction of the Slytherin Common Room. Roxanne was silent as usual and Sandor, longing to hit something, couldn’t help but snap.

 

“I had it under control.”

“I know.” Roxanne said.

 

Sandor breathed in sharply at the answer and stopped in his tracks.

 

“No you don’t know shit.” he lashed out before he let out a growl and threw his fist at the wall, making Roxanne jump and gasp. 

Sandor breathed out and his shoulders slumped as the pressure finally leaked. His knuckles hurt and he realised he had cut his palms with his nails while gathered in tightly clenched fists. Now calmed, he felt like he could face Roxanne again, but she was jumpy and looked at him like a scared doe would a wolf. When they entered the Great Hall, it seemed to Sandor that Roxanne’s easy companionship he enjoyed in late August and during school days was completely gone, hidden behind a wall of worry, awkwardness and fear. Sandor looked at his hands and tried to sponge away the blood with a napkin he dipped into his water glass, trying to ignore Roxanne and her tanned skin turned pale. For some reason, only Elizabeth seemed to notice something was amiss between them but she didn’t say a thing until late that night.

 

Elizabeth had the habit of sneaking into the boys dormitory when they played Exploding Snap and other games late into the night, when Shy Roxanne and Bossy Dany were fast asleep. This time, she waited until all the boys were in bed and sneaked behind the curtains of Sandor’s four-poster bed.

 

“What are you doing here?” Sandor hissed, hiding beneath his covers. If his classmate (his  _girl_ classmate) saw he was sleeping in the nude, he’d die of embarrassment and he didn’t need embarrassment after the shitty day he just spent.

“Just checking up on you, relax.” Elizabeth answered. “So, tell me. What happened with Roxanne?”

“Not your fucking business!” Sandor spat. “Leave my bed.”

“I won’t.” she said. “Not until you tell me.” She crossed her arms and pouted and the boy knew exactly how she could really embarrass him further. Especially if it became known that Sandor Clegane slept naked.

 

He sighed and recounted the entirety of his encounter with Joffrey Baratheon, mentioning why he wanted to talk to him in the first place and how he got angry at it.

 

“And Roxanne?”

“She saved me in fact.” Sandor explained. “I was ready to beat his face into a pulp. With my bare hands, you know, not with a spell. But when we were walking, there was this silence and I was so mad… I had to let the pressure out and I said that she didn’t know... anything and punched the wall and…”

 

Sandor sighed and looked at Elizabeth’s brown eyes and saw that she was not judging him.

 

“I expected that of Joff, though I didn’t know he’d go to such lengths… But… But I scared Roxanne, my friend. And it scared me.” he confessed, his grip loosening on the sheets that fell on his young boy’s torso.

 

Elizabeth sighed and she opened her arms. Sandor was reminded of the many times she did that for her little brothers and sisters when they were upset. They would dive in her arms and let themselves be hugged.

Sandor was not three years old anymore and he was naked under his covers so he just took her hand. Elizabeth didn’t seem angry or even disappointed and she just lied down above the covers near him, her wild frizzy hair touching his shoulders.

 

“Hm… What’s that?” she asked as she suddenly rose her head to reach for what was beneath it with her free hands. Sandor’s good cheek immediately turned red as he snatched the garment from her hand and hid it beneath the covers between his legs. His naked legs.

Elizabeth's cheeks suddenly became very dark with the blood rush blushing them. She mumbled something along the lines of “I should go” and left hurriedly.

 

The morning after, Roxanne was stuttering still but she didn’t seem scared of him anymore. She even offered to accompany him to the owlery when Sandor said he had to send a letter to his father but he declined. Elizabeth was as chatty and energetic as ever and it seemed like their nightly conversation never happened at all.

Just in case, Sandor started to sleep with his pajamas pants on. Caution is the mother of safety. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you guys crazy?” Sandor asked.

“Please, Sandor, come on!” James pleaded.

“You’re the only one who's tall enough!” Thomas said.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t do a simple Levitation Spell halfway through your second year, Tom.” Sandor countered. “Shall I tell Flitwick you’ve been sleeping through his class?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” his young dorm mate hissed, outraged.

“Let’s calm down boys.” Elizabeth interrupted. “If Sandor’s not in it then we won’t force him, alright?”

 

The boys looked at each other and nodded to inform each other they accepted the peace.

 

“It’s dangerous to levitate people.” James managed to mutter.

 

Sandor sighed but Elizabeth tutted in the manner only the elder of seven children (soon to be eight) could, making him bite back another remark. However, he didn’t want to let his friends down, literally, and he knew that their plan would become really dangerous if he wasn’t there.

And they were doing it for him he thought as he held onto Thomas’ ankles, surprisingly steady on his shoulders.

  


“What if he doesn’t sit at this place?” James asked softly while he watched the corridor for the patrol.

“He always does.” Elizabeth said, sounding confident but looking nervously right and left herself. “If he won’t, I know how to make him.” she added with a grin.

 

They thankfully didn’t meet any trouble going back to the Common Room, though the Fat Lady gave them a reproachful glare.

  


“Won’t she report to a teacher?” Thomas asked.

“My Aunt Hermione told me once that if she did, my father, my uncle and her would have been expelled long before they entered their second year.” James said once they were seated on the couch near the dying fire or on the chair behind it.

 

They couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the idea of breaking the rules and getting away with it. Sandor felt a rush and a closeness to Tom, James and Elizabeth he felt would last forever. They talked for a bit and after a few minutes of yawning, they went to their respective beds with grins on their faces.

  


The morning after during Double Defense of the Dark Arts by Professor Stannis Baratheon, Joffrey was humiliated. Being Weasley’s gave James and Roxanne access to a lot of experimental toys, including the soon to be released Super Mega Dung Bomb. A carefully pre-Disillusioned stink bomb of awesome that drenched Joffrey with manure when his goons and him sat down. Sandor, Thomas and Elizabeth had a real hard time not to join for a collective high-five and James was laughing like crazy.

 

“Seriously thanks guys. That was awesome.” Sandor said as they finally reached their Common Room for the evening.

“That’s what friends are for.” James said as they shook hands.

 

All four apprentices in mischief finally could high-five at the great surprise of James Potter to whom the concept was completely foreign.

 

“It feels good to do it.” James said. “Any other funny Muggle customs I could use?”

“We’ll teach you as we go.” Elizabeth shrugged, her white smile still eating her face.

 

They were too excited to do homework, so when Dany and Roxanne came and tried to put them to work, they abandoned really quickly. Sandor glanced apologetically to Roxanne but she shook her head and settled herself with Dany farther away to start on the Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment while Sandor, James, Elizabeth and Thomas laughed, joked and ate Chocolate Frogs and Liquorice Wands near the fire (or on a chair behind the couch they sat on…)

 

After a great evening, they all went to bed and Sandor, suddenly feeling tired, fell into his bed with only his cloak and robes removed, keeping his jeans, socks and shirt he discarded next to his pillow without bothering to settle properly under the covers, vaguely tucking them around his legs. It was a good day. He deserved to go to sleep unhindered. Just for once.

  


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He was woken up by giggles.

 

“You’re the worst, guys! _He’s our friend!_ ” Elizabeth was mumbling trying to stiffle her laugh.

“You sure you didn’t sneak a peek?” Thomas asked.

“Hey, who wants to die and remove the covers?” James tried to whisper.

 

But he was too loud. Sandor, half asleep and ten times as mad roared and reached for his friend’s neck, holding it tight.

He couldn’t hear the cries and pleas just yet but when he did, his fingers released Potter’s neck and Sandor felt as if a bucket of icy water had been dropped onto his head.

He was sitting down, naked in his bed and his friends had sneaked up on him. And he had almost killed James, presently trying to breathe in Elizabeth’s arms, massaging his red throat.

 

_This is my fault. I’m a danger._

_I’m like_ him.

 

Sandor couldn’t care less that there was a girl in the dormitory: he snatched his wizard robe and passed it on, then he rose from the bed, making his classmates step back.

 

The sting of tears was too much and Sandor Clegane fled the Gryffindor Tower into Hogwarts’ maze of corridors.

  
  


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When Professor Longbottom found Sandor Clegane crying in an empty classroom, he didn’t scold him right away. Sandor always liked him (despite him and McGonagall sentencing him to a scolarity devoid of Quidditch…), because he was fair and even if he was a bit scared of Sandor’s face burns, he quickly took control of himself and treated him like any other Gryffindor student. After all, burns couldn’t be really seen under the dirt of the greenhouses's pots…

Unlike his weakness, how his friends, his best friends, decided to breach his privacy and trust.

And how he had strangled said friend until he almost choked and his huge blue eyes were about to pop out of his head.

Professor Longbottom waited a while for Sandor to finish crying in silence.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as he led his student back to the Common Room.

 

Sandor shook his head. No. He couldn't.

 

“Then I’ll see you in detention.” the Herbology professor told him. “Maybe you’ll be calm and ready by then.”

 

Sandor sighed and nodded, resigned as his teacher provided the Fat Lady with the password. In the Common Room, James, Thomas and Elizabeth were waiting for him. She had cried, her brown eyes were bloodshot and James’ face lit up when he saw Sandor while Thomas looked similarly relieved.

Professor Longbottom looked at them, reminded them that it was past midnight and that they had Herbology on the morrow and then he left.

Immediately, a snivelling and shrieking Elizabeth ran to him sobbing something along the lines of “forgive me” or “I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have told them…”. Sandor, was taken into a vise-like hug he couldn’t escape. And he couldn’t stay angry at her, he realised. Then James and Thomas joined the group hug and they all slept in the boy’s dormitory, Elizabeth clinging to Sandor’s arm in his bed.

  


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*

  


It was annoying when everybody looked at Elizabeth coming out from the boy’s dorm at eight in the morning. Sandor didn’t like it and soon whispers about how she was always with the boys turned into unsanitary comments about the sexual life of a twelve year old. When James was about to defend on their way to Charms from the greenhouses from some fifth years, Dany stopped him.

 

“It will stop.” she said. “Defending her honour is good, but I think you should just act normal.”

 

However, the fifth year Slytherin, on their way to Herbology class with the Ravenclaw weren’t so kind.

 

“Hey, boys, hope you had a good time last night. A tiny weener for each of her holes.” Amaury Lorch sneered.

 

Gregor laughed out loud and pushed Sandor roughly as their path crossed, almost making him stumble and fall.

The second years of House Gryffindor stopped in their tracks, to Sandor’s great horror as he knew exactly what Gregor was capable of if they ever fought back.

  


“Look where you’re walking, Clegane.” Thomas spat at him.

“It’s okay I’m on my two feet.” Sandor said hurriedly.

“What are you gonna do, Mudblood?” Gregor answered, his head towering way higher than the twelve year old’s hat.

“As if your blood was as pure or as old…” Dany sneered in turn.

“Guys, we’re going to be late and Flitwick’s going to dock points.” Sandor insisted.

“Yeah… Bet your Slytherin friends are ashamed your Dad’s a muggle.” James continued, not hearing the urgency in Sandor’s voice.

“Now mate, excuse us but we’ve got better things to do than trying to make conversation with cavemen.” Elizabeth dropped, her tone haughty.

 

Sandor couldn’t save them all, so he took Roxanne’s arm and lead her toward the castle’s gates. The girl let herself be led quite willingly and he could see that she had been scared of Gregor and his cruel friends too. Praised be Merlin, at least one Weasley had common sense.

Elizabeth, Dany, James and Thomas arrived a bit late to the class, but professor Flitwick didn’t remove any points off Gryffindor because he had been looking for a particular book that was in the pile he used to elevate himself and thus he hadn’t started the lesson when they arrived.

Sandor was anxious all day. Roxanne kept throwing him scared glances and it made him even more nervous. When they returned to the Common Room, Sandor went straight to the dormitories and then his bed. Gregor would want revenge, he was sure of it. Especially since he didn’t have the chance to make his life a living Hell since Sandor was sorted in Gryffindor and even before that, Sandor had been in the Prefect’s wagon all the time thanks to a kind Hufflepuff, Robb Stark, who told him he would probably not be in trouble if he stayed there. It had been a boring day when the Prefects’ reunion ended and they all went to take care of their business, but at least, Gregor hadn’t found him there.

But now, now that Gregor had him in his sight, saw that he had real friends who made him happy, Sandor was intimately persuaded that Gregor would take them away the only way he knew how: by destroying them.

 

“I will not allow it.” Sandor said to his reflection in the mirror.

“Keep telling yourself that, mate.” it answered sarcastically.

 

Sandor wasn’t in the mood for sarcastic, but he needed his mirror to get ready in the morning, so he didn’t smash it to pieces and started to undress. He wanted to go to sleep and hope Gregor wasn’t in any of his nightmares. He decided to wear pants again, the events of the night before still hurting a bit despite his friends’ apologies.

He was just putting an old Nightwish shirt from his Dad when he heard tiny footsteps behind him.

 

“Go away, Eli…” he started.

 

But the arms around him weren’t Elizabeth’s. For one, they were shaking and the exposed skin of the hands was not ebony dark and more like wild flowers honey, golden and shiny. Then, her smell was different. Elizabeth smelled like an energy drink and a lot of things Sandor associated with the Muggle world. Roxanne smelled like flowers, new parchment and pumpkin juice.

The young boy turned around and looked at Roxanne. She looked terrified, but somehow it made Sandor’s heart beat loud and fast. She was very little in his arms, so little and frail he was afraid he’d break her if he even dared to lay a finger on her. Roxanne’s eye, delicious blue eyes, were wide open and her neatly combed chestnut brown hair with hints of red were framing her beautiful face. She closed her eyes and her lips twitched before Sandor’s amazed stare. They were so full… He wondered what would happen if…

Sandor lowered his face onto Roxanne’s and couldn’t help but chuckle nervously when he brushed his scarred lips with hers. Light exploded beneath his closed eyelids as he forgot everything else.

 

Gregor was nothing. His best mates laughing about how he slept naked, they were nothing. Hell, the fucking Charms twelve inches essay was nothing!

 

Roxanne broke the kiss but Sandor’s head was still reeling from it. She was red to the roots of her hair, but she kissed him on his good cheek, holding the scarred one with her hand and she whispered:

 

“I like you.”

 

Sandor didn’t know what to say, but a string of onomatopoeia and curses happened. Roxanne laughed and Sandor, twelve years old, five feet three, was sitting on his bed, watching a pretty little red head with a fondness for scars leave the boy’s dormitory, a bounce in her step and sparkles in her eyes. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sandor spent all the rest of October in a pleasant bubble where he chatted with his friends and held hands with Roxanne. They often went to the owlery together early in the morning to send mail to their parents and kiss for several minutes. Of Gregor he didn’t see nor head nor tail until Halloween, but his classmates smothered his fears.

 

“He can’t do anything.” Dany said. “He’s in fifth year, so the teachers are assigning them a lot of homework to prepare for the O.W.L.’s and he must have some ambitions. I heard he was good at Defense of the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes and Charms.”

“And we’re never alone.” James added. “We always do stuff together and meet him only when we go from the Greenhouses to Flitwick’s class. Or in the Great Hall at dinner.”

 

Sandor’s mind was not really at ease, but he had so much questions in his head. For example, he tried to pinpoint exactly when Roxanne had become interested in him. She was so shy in first year that she barely talked to him longer than it took to ask a question or answer one of his, mostly about homework. Then he had spent two weeks in the Weasley’s flat in Diagon Alley just above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

This was really the two best weeks of his short life. They had spent almost all their time in the shop, annoying the staff and pulling pranks on some clients. Sandor had really liked how she laughed, but he didn’t even think it was possible any girl, pretty or ugly, would like him that way. Her Uncle Ron she shared with James even showed them The Lab and they helped beta test many new products, among them the Dungball they used on Joffrey earlier this month.

Really, Sandor didn’t understand why Roxanne liked him that way. He just tried to be a normal boy that wasn’t emotionally and physically scarred by his bully of a brother around her and she kissed him all the same. So this morning in the Owlery, when Roxanne asked him to be her dance partner at the Halloween dance, he hesitated.

It was a Dress Robe kind of party with the teachers toasting, then the dance starting before a curfew would be issued for the second to fourth year students at eleven and a second one for the older students, who were allowed to stay up and dancing until one in the morning. They would then be their turn to join their beds like the firsties, who weren’t allowed to attend the party yet.

 

“I don’t have dress robes.” Sandor stuttered.

 

Roxanne blushed and said that he could borrow one from one of the older students.

 

“I mean, you’re quite tall, maybe someone would have a spare one…” she said. “I’ll ask my brother.”

 

Sandor suppressed a groan.

George and Angelina Weasley, though the former was a bit stiff knowing there was a boy around his young daughter, were a kind bunch (pretty much like all the Weasleys Sandor met). However, Fred Weasley II felt it was his duty to protect his little sister’s virtue since his father had been pretty rational about Roxanne inviting a male friend. He had made Sandor feel like he was in a bad sitcom.

 

“I’m pretty sure that now that we’re… Hmm… You know… Well… He won’t!” Sandor said.

 

Then his eyes grew wide and his hands clammy.

 

“Wait, what are we?” he asked, suddenly realising that…

“Maybe we’re dating. Not quite a couple but maybe… Courting. Like in stories!” Roxanne said.

“Well, I don’t like stories.” Sandor said, anticipating the girl’s disappointed look. “Unless you’re in them.” he added with a smile, making her smile in return.

 

He almost regretted it because it always made his stomach lurch in his belly and he was afraid he’d do something really awkward like puking on her robes and she’d hate him for it.

 

“Look, I know how to make Fred do what I want. Trust me.” Roxanne said with a wink and a kiss.

 

The morning of the 31st, as the Gryffindor second year class was eating and getting ready for their Transfiguration class with Mr Baelish, a sixth year red head with a mean scowl on his face dumped a parcel wrapped in kraft paper on Sandor’s bacon and toast before leaning near Sandor with a menacing glare.  

 

“If you try anything with my little sister’s I’ll burn the other side of your head.” Fred Weasley shouted for all to hear.

 

Sandor was petrified. He was so shocked and so afraid that he stayed put, looking at the void before him a long time before Roxanne’s tiny hand over his snapped him out of his worst nightmare.

The day’s classes were a blur. Sandor couldn’t focus. He could only hear Fred Weasley’s threat. He was not in a sitcom anymore, he was in a nightmare. He remembered the smell, the hisses, the devilish forms in the flames and Gregor’s laugh at his useless pleas.

 

“Mr. Clegane, are you sure that you are listening?” Professor Baratheon asked.

 

The Defense of the Dark Arts professor was not pleased by Sandor’s lack of focus and removed ten points off Gryffindor. Several desks away, Joffrey was silently raising eyebrows at Sandor.

The boy suddenly remembered confiding into his former friend before they went to Hogwarts. And the whole Hall had probably heard Roxanne’s brother and connected the dots. Sandor tried to steel himself to no avail, prompting the teacher to ask him to stay after class.

  


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“Mr. Clegane.” Stannis Baratheon was a stern looking thirty something with slightly balding black hair and stern blue eyes. He was almost the exact mirror of what his older brother, Joffrey’s father Robert, would have looked like if he hadn’t overindulged in his appetites and kept fit.

 

“I am aware that as a student and a young boy you might have met some problems.” he said.

 

Sandor didn’t say anything, merely looked at the teacher in the eye, hoping he would flinch or something. Even as a retired Auror, the job bringing his lot of scars, maybe he’d be put out by seeing such gruesome ones displayed proudly on a child’s face. He wasn’t.

 

“However, you musn’t let fear dictate your behaviour.” the teacher told him. “Fred Weasley cannot hurt you within these walls, young man. Nor anyone for that matter. Do you understand.”

 

The hard, but honest stare of his teacher helped Sandor, really. So he nodded in agreement and hurried to his Common Room once dismissed. Everybody was already getting ready, asking everybody how they were looking. Fred Weasley threw a heinous glance Sandor’s way, but Sandor just climbed up to his dormitory, ignoring the older boy. In his bag, the grease stained package containing the dress robes was waiting and in the room, James was helping Thomas donning his, who were so white, Sandor was almost blinded. James was sporting red robes that were resolutely simple compared to Thomas’.

 

“Hey, you’re there!” James said.

 

He looked dashing. His perpetually tousled black hair, his blue eyes and his overall confidence would probably turn him into girls magnet tonight. Thomas was combing his sandy blond hair back and he smiled at Sandor.

 

“Catch!” he called, throwing his comb at him.

 

Sandor caught it and moved to the boy’s showers to change.

The navy blue robe was a bit wide at the shoulders and short on the sleeves, having been made for someone who had already passed the lanky stage and grown into some of his muscles. Fred must have hit his last growth spurt and had to buy new dress robes lest he showed off his ankles for all to see. Thankfully, Sandor’s socks stayed hidden and only his bare feet showed. He thought about his nice shoes, Dad’s last year’s Christmas gift and how they barely fit anymore and sighed. It was that or trainers. He wouldn’t humiliate Roxanne that way. She was already dating the ugliest boy in school, he should at least dress sharp, damn!

The cloak was a soft deep blue velvet lined with silver thread inside and it was perfect. Sandor carefully combed his hair while exiting the bathroom, neatly arranging the long black locks to the right side of his face to hide the worst of the burns where his naked jawbone showed.

 

“You’re looking good, Clegane!” Thomas exclaimed as Sandor gave him back his comb, his dark eyes appreciatively giving him a once over.

“I’m a claimed man, Pratchett, so quit it, you’re not my type!” Sandor answered.

 

James laughed as he attached his black cloak lined with gold. Then Elizabeth burst into the boy’s room wearing a garish yellow dress that stopped just beneath her knees. She wore yellow flats, her usually untamed dark curls were bound in a high ponytail and she had put on red lipstick on her dark lips.

 

“Oh my God! Boys! You’re taking forever!” she shouted before she authoritatively ushered them downstairs. “I’m seriously starting to think I’m the man of the band and you’re the girls! Come on, Dany and Roxanne are waiting by the Fat Lady! Put on your shoes, Sandor!”

 

When Sandor saw Dany’s black ball gown complemented by her long silver hair reaching the small of her back, he thought she was pretty.

But when he saw Roxanne in her green trapeze dress, he was so dumbstruck that he stopped in his tracks to admire her. She was not just pretty. She was… Well. More pretty, he supposed. Roxanne came to him and took his hand before kissing him on his good cheek.

Her arms were bare and the skirt was reaching just below her knees. She wore the same kind of flat shoes that Elizabeth wore, but hers had a golden buckle on it that mirrored her golden choker holding a single emerald. Her chestnut hair were loose of her usual bun and her blue eyes, a Weasley trait that Sandor found absolutely unique on her darker face, were full of wonder.

 

“Is he broken?” Dany asked.

“No. He’s just in love.” James answered as soon as he stopped laughing.

“It’s so cuuuuuuuuuuute!” Elizabeth squealed in glee.

“He’s big and scarred and he scares people away because he thinks he’s tough, but give him his girl he’ll just watch her with puppy eyes!” Thomas said in a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at him!” Roxanne admonished them a tiny voice, sounding defensive.

 

She managed to wake Sandor up and he glared at his friends and smiled at Dany. He tightened his grip on his girlfriend’s hand and held his head high, starting to walk toward the Great Hall.

 

“And I'm not making puppy eyes!” he finally managed to say when his voice returned.

“You are.” Thomas insisted.

“Am not.” Sandor refuted.

  


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“You are!”

“Am not.”

“Come on!” Thomas groaned in annoyance!

“Sandor won!” Roxanne declared in an even and soft tone of voice, the one Sandor adored.

 

They had reached the doors of the Great Hall where students and teachers were to enjoy a Halloween Feast and then the dance and soon everybody was too amazed at the gorgeous decorations or the food to pay attention to anything.

Except that Sandor felt very nervous about the blazing pumpkins floating in the air instead of the candles. He tried to focus on the food, the conversation, but had an easier time distracting himself with Roxanne.

At eight, the music started to play and the second years watched every older student and the staff rise from the benches and step away from the tables. When everyone was standing on their two feet, the tables disappeared into thin air and everybody started to mingle and dance to the tunes.

Roxanne was delighted and Sandor let himself led into the dance by his graceful partner. He was quite ashamed of being so awkward and clumsy, but she seemed not to care when he stepped onto her toes. Sandor realised that he really wasn’t into dancing, but he didn’t want to part with her so he kept moving his feet right and left while holding her.

He vaguely saw James dance with Dany and Thomas do stupid funny moves together when a slow song started and Roxanne came closer to him.

Again, he was feeling like he was holding a crystal doll he was so afraid to break. Roxanne was really tiny. How tall was she? Fourty five ? Maybe near the fifty inches mark? He was afraid he would break her all the time he held her in his arms.

When the slow song stopped, Roxanne and him were flushed and she asked if he wanted some pumpkin juice. Everything to get away from two things he started to hate: the pumpkins on fire and the dancefloor (though Roxanne made it somewhat enjoyable).

They grabbed a drink and Sandor took her hand, leading her out of the Great Hall. The air was cooler in the Entrance Hall and he felt immediately better.

 

“Do you want to sit on the stairs?” he asked his companion, feeling his toes crushed in his tiny old shoes.

“Yes. My legs hurt.” she nodded. Before becoming as red as a tomato. “Not that you hurt me or anything… And I didn’t mean that you don’t dance well… Oh, you…”

 

Sandor couldn’t help it, he laughed and kissed her brow.

 

On the lowest steps of the stairs, they sat and they stole light chaste kisses. Remembering their pumpking juice glasses, Sandor held it high.

 

“Let’s toast!” he said. “Hmmm…”

 

He looked at Roxanne and he said, making sure she was looking at him in his grey eyes:

 

“To the prettiest girl I know.”

 

Roxanne smiled as Sandor drank and she raised her glass:

 

“To the bravest boy I ever met.” she said, her delicious blue eyes making Sandor feel like he was drowning.

 

Until they were interrupted by two hands clapping.

  


 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Sandor’s blood turned to ice when he recognized Gregor.

The elder Clegane brother was flanked by his usual friends, Amaury Lorch, Matthew Polliver, a sixth year Sandor only knew as The Tickler and some fourth year like Joss Stillwood, Ralph Dunsen and Benedict Chiswyck. All of them were Slytherins.

Sandor was filled with dread. The Hall was empty and the oldest student did some wandwork in direction of the Great Hall’s doors. The second year could see professor Baratheon’s straight back as he watched the other students enjoying themselves.

 

“Come Roxanne, we’re leaving…” Sandor mumbled, rising to his feet.

“Don’t you think it’s rude not to present your girlfriend to your older brother?” Gregor asked.

 

Sandor grew even more scared. He was in one his moods again. Roxanne, thankfully was as spooked as he was and rose at the same time as he, her pumpkin juice glass in her tight grip.

 

“ _Locomotor Mortis!_ ” Gregor shouted.

 

Roxanne’s gasp made Sandor’s heart plummet into the depths of his stomach. The juice fell on the floor and the dim lights and dark stone of the staircase made it look like blood. Sandor grabbed his own wand, wanting to cast the counterspell and run, but Gregor disarmed him with a silent spell, making his wand fly out of his reach.

 

“Please, leave us alone.” Roxanne whimpered, making Sandor even more alarmed.

“Don’t.” he whispered to her as he tried to carry her.

 

Gregor liked it more when they  _begged_.

 

“You know what. I think you owe me a taste!” Gregor said, closing the distance between them. “I mean, I’m the elder, right…” he added, a perverted glint shining in his eye…

“Fuck you.” Sandor groaned, putting himself between his brother and his girlfriend.

 

The fright was gone, replaced with anger at the implication that Gregor had some right of first night on her. The hatred for this monster that had the same blood as he, he wanted to bash his head until it bled. Until it  _burned_.

 

“Gentlemen?” a stern voice coming from above startled them.

 

Minerva McGonagall was standing poised in tartan robes, her white hair exceptionally loose beneath her large pointed hat. It didn’t remove any harshness to her glare. She swiftly and wordlessly lifted the curse from Rose and asked:

 

“What is happening here?” in a cold manner.

 

The Slytherin student’s hostile demeanor turned into distrustful glares and swift concealment of wands. Sandor felt victorious when Gregor was caught holding his along with his own.

 

“Gregor cursed Roxanne with a Leg-Locking Curse and disarmed me when I tried to help her.” Sandor immediately told her, speaking fast. “He also said... Very... Err… Ungentlemanly things about her.”

“It’s not true!” Polliver suddenly exclaimed. “Baby Clegane was almost forcing himself on the girl!”

“You got some nerve!” Sandor yelled, his anger not having died down.

“Silence!”

 

When the Headmistress talked, everything shut its goddamn mouth. Even paintings.

 

“Miss Weasley.” Professor McGonagall asked, her tone less cold and more soft. “What do you have to say?”

“Sandor and I were drinking pumpkin juice on the stairs, professor.” Roxanne said, her eyes cast down on the discarded glass, the broken one and the spilled liquid.

“And is there any truth to what any of your comrades have said?” the professor asked.

“Sandor is right.” Roxanne said. “We were alone and they came to bother us. Mostly insult Sandor and… And...”

 

Sandor knew that Roxanne didn’t want to repeat Gregor’s horrific words. If professor McGonagall had been younger, he might have tried to tell her by mentioning Braveheart to her, but she was so old that she wouldn’t know Mel Gibson from Florian Fortescue if she was ever sensible to Muggle Culture at all.

 

“Am I to understand that the  _and_  means that Mr. Gregor Clegane indeed said ungentlemanly things to you?”

“Well… Not to me, but... About me, professor.” Roxanne managed to squeak.

 

Sandor took her hand and Roxanne held it tightly, shifting so he would be still between her and the Slytherin students but leaning against her classmate. Sandor rubbed her naked arm, realising that it was prickly with goose bumps and wanting to warm her up. She didn’t have any cloak and the Entrance Hall was chilly so he unclasped Fred’s and put it on her shoulders.

Minerva McGonagall raised her wand and pointed it at the Great Hall’s door. The tip of it glowed red and her stern eyes shifted on the older students.

 

“I am surprised to see that such precautions were taken to prevent any of the chaperones of the Haloween Party to witness whatever you planned to do to Mr. Sandor Clegane and Miss Roxanne Weasley. Such advanced spells can only have been casted by a sixth year student at the very least. What say you, Mr. Sarsfield?” she asked, watching The Tickler with cold and just anger.

“I didn’t do anything.” he defended himself.

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I requested you submit your wand of examination?” the Headmistress asked, eyebrow raised.

 

The Tickler’s face turned white.

 

“I thought so.” the old woman said knowingly.

 

She descended the stairs and extended her hand toward Gregor who groaned as he surrendered Sandor’s olivewood wand. When she received it, professor McGonagall spoke:

 

“For those despicable acts perpetrated against younger students and spellcasting outside the safety of a classroom, as the regulations demands, I will remove fifty points to Slytherin and twenty points to Gryffindor for each spell that has been casted in the last thirty minutes. I demand that you surrender your wands.” she said firmly.

 

Roxanne removed her wand from her pocket and gave it to Sandor so he could hand it over to the Headmistress. The Slytherin students weren’t as swift as she was to do so.

The professor McGonagall proceeded to examine all the wands with her own, starting with Sandor’s, then Roxanne, then each Slytherin student saving Gregor’s and Sarsfield’s for last.

Gregor had obviously casted two spells, The Tickler one.

 

“That will make a hundred and fifty points from Slytherin.” the Headmistress said. “I will also assign to all of you a week of detention. Let’s make it two for the liars, Mr Polliver, Mr Sarsfield and three for the attacker, Mr Gregor Clegane.”

 

She gave Sandor and Roxanne their wands back and told them to return to their Common Room. They fled as quickly as it was proper to do in presence of the Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, running when they reached the third floor and only stopping when they had to provide the password to the Fat Lady.

When the portrait swung back into place, the couple sat on the couch of the empty room near the dying fire. Every first year had gone to bed, it seemed. Roxanne was still shivering despite Sandor’s cloak. When he made a move to hug her, Roxanne just gave him back his cloak.

 

“I’m… I’m tired.” she said. “Thank you.”

 

Sandor watched up walk up the stairs to her dormitory with a lump in his throat.

If the Headmistress had been there, they wouldn’t even have the slightest chance to come out of this unscathed. He wished she had punished them more. House points didn't mean anything to Gregor. He wasn’t coming to Hogwarts for the Cup. He wanted to rule the world and bully it into submission. The elder Clegane had a plan, that Sandor was persuaded and he wanted to be as far from it as he could be.

The boy yawned and decided to go to sleep. In pajamas.

 

*

*       *

*

  


Sandor awakened to the sight of a smiling Thomas, waiting patiently.

 

“No.” Sandor said, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Please.”

“Nothing happened!”

“Please.”

 

Sandor wasn’t in the mood for his misplaced curiosity and contemplated telling him.

Until he remembered Roxanne’s reluctance in reporting Gregor’s threat. What Thomas knew, the whole castle knew and maybe she thought it humiliating. Though why she would, Sandor couldn’t even begin to understand why. It seemed pretty stupid to him to be embarrassed when your safety was threatened.

 

“Nothing happened.” Sandor firmly affirmed.

“Did you kiss?” he heard James ask from the bathroom door.

 

Sandor tried to close his curtains, but Thomas took his wrists and James was soon on the other side, wearing a jumper with a lion adorned with his initials embroidered on it, making him groan. He was cornered.

 

“So now tell us everything. Did you kiss with tongue?” James asked.

“What? NO!” Sandor exclaimed, horrified.

 

Thomas laughed.

 

“You’re such a baby!” he said. “Girls love French kissing!”

“If you continue to harass me, I’ll Scotch kiss you.” Sandor threatened, showing his fist right under the blonde boy’s nose.

“Seriously. Please, could you tell?” James said. “I’m pretty sure you’re lying about how nothing happened.”

“Yeah, it sounded too much like ‘mind your own business or I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands.’” Thomas added, poking at Sandor’s clenched fist with his index finger.

“Actually, no, it sounded more like ‘nothing sexy happened’” James said, sounding serious all of a sudden.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sandor said. “Now let me get out of bed.”

“Nope, mate!” a woman’s voice said from the door.

 

Elizabeth, wearing her usual Muggle shirt, jeans and trainers, entered the boy’s dormitory and jumped onto Sandor’s bed, closing his third and last exit.

 

“Roxanne was all pale when we drilled her on your date.” she explained. “She said you had kissed and you were interrupted and then she shut us out so hard, I physically hurt!”

“How is she?” Sandor asked, genuinely worried.

“Dany and her went to the Great Hall for breakfast.” Elizabeth said. “Don’t change the subject. What happened after you kissed on the stairs?”

“We toasted with the pumpkin juice.” Sandor answered. “I want to take a shower.”

“And?” James moaned.

“Who interrupted you?” Thomas questioned.

 

Sandor had enough.

 

“Fuck you!” he yelled, pushing Thomas off his bed and jumping out of it. The boy landed on his bum hard and Sandor on his two feet inches from his face.

 

The bigger boy stomped his way toward the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

  


*

*       *

*

  


When Sandor hit the Hall, he saw Dany, but not Roxanne.

 

“Hey? I thought you came down together?” he asked.

“We did.” Daenerys answered. “Roxanne wasn’t hungry, she said she was going to the Library.”

“Thanks.” Sandor said, climbing back the staircase.

 

However, the Library was empty, save for a few courageous fifth and seventh year who weren’t hungover like most of the Gryffindor older students, courtesy of their upcoming exams...

 

_Where is she?_

 

Sandor tried the empty rooms they used for their Potions coaching under Dany’s watchful gaze, but he just ended up stumbling upon Louis Weasley and a Hufflepuff boy he didn’t know kissing on the Fourth Floor in the Arithmancy class.

 

“Sorry.” he managed before closing back the door.

 

Then he remembered. Louis Weasley.  _Weasley_.

 

He knocked on the panel instead of just barging in this time.

 

“Come in.” the voice of the Ravenclaw Weasley said on the other side.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt.’ Sandor said. “I’m looking for Roxanne Weasley. Did any of you see her?”

“I bumped into her.” Louis answered. “She looked upset. Has something happened?”

“My brother happened. Yesterday at the Party.” Sandor confessed.

 

Louis Weasley was her family, if he lied to him, Fred was likely to know and Sandor, though he didn’t like it, would like to keep his head on his shoulders and himself far from any kind of fire.

Louis looked alarmed.

 

“She was really upset.” he added. “She told me she’d be hiding in the Charms corridor near Flitwick’s office.

“Already opened all the classrooms in the Charms corridor, just starting with fourth floor.” Sandor said in a clipped hurried tone, starting to worry in earnest now.

“What did Gregor do?” the Hufflepuff asked.

“He threw a few minor curses around but the Headmistress was there and…”

“Yeah, we all saw the Slytherin Hourglass empty itself during the Party.” Louis added.

“He also said… Hmm… Stuff…” Sandor wanted to tell.

“Like threatening stuff.” Louis asked, his platinum blonde complexion suddenly turning a whole lot more Weasley.

“He threatened Roxanne, yes.” Sandor added.

“Loras.” Louis said. “Mind if we postpone this date a little bit.”

“No, of course not. Family’s important.” Loras answered and before offering his help.

 

In something akin to twelve minutes, all the grandchildren of the Director of the Muggle Public Relations Department Arthur Weasley were looking for Roxanne. They searched the castle top to bottom. But she was not in the Astronomy Tower. She was not in the Divination Classroom. She was not in Varys’ office, but the Spider had a few word for them before they left the Caretaker’s Office.

 

“One of my Spiders may have been watching the Dungeons.” he tittered mysteriously.

 

Sandor and James left the room and started to walk briskly toward the lower levels of the castle. Before they could even register or even contact Victoire or Lucy, any older Weasley, they were running. Sandor was afraid. Did he find her? Did he do anything to her? He didn’t know if it was the exertion or the fear making his heart beat so wildly.

When they arrived at the first door in the Dungeon’s corridor, they started to open them, looking, calling, until they reached the Potions classroom.

 

“Roxanne!” Sandor exclaimed.

 

Something was a bit off with her and she was holding Mrs Bancroft’s hand tightly. When Sandor arrived, she shuffled farther from him and deeper into their teacher’s robes. Even then, Sandor could see: her beautiful blue eyes were bloodshot from tears and her dark skin was pale. Sandor wanted to take her in his arms and smother her with kisses on her mouth, on her cheeks, in her hair, but Roxanne said:

 

“I think I want to go to bed, Professor Bancroft.”

“Mr. Potter, would you please escort your cousin to your Common Room? Mr. Clegane I wish to talk to you.”

“I will, Mrs Bancroft.”

 

Sandor tried to smile at Roxanne but she wouldn’t stare at anything but the floor. Holding James’ hand, she followed him.

 

“Mr. Clegane.” Mrs Bancroft said. “You are a good student and rather calm. You don’t stir trouble and it is commendable. It’s important that you know that. However, Roxanne is withholding something from the staff and I found her wandering the dungeons alone and distressed. Since you two seem close, I was wondering if something happened.”

“Yesterday… My br..., Gregor Clegane threatened her.” Sandor stuttered, wondering if he was going to cry too. “He… He said that since he’s the older brother he…”

 

Sandor would rather puke than finish the sentence but thankfully, Mrs Bancroft understood, judging by the almost inaudible “filthy Muggles” whisper.

 

“Look…” Mrs Bancroft said. “I suspect that older Slytherin students might have attacked Miss Weasley and masked their trail with Confusion Curses or botched Oblivion Charms. I am telling you because you are close to her, but please do not leak this information to anyone. I have to fill a report for Professors Longbottom and Baelish, your Head of House and that of Slytherin before Miss Weasley is even considered for a medical examination and then an Owl will be sent to her parents. I trust you to be careful around her and be supportive, Mr. Clegane. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Sandor answered through the lump in his throat.

“Now off.”

 

When Sandor reached the Common Room, Roxanne was being hugged by her brother and questioned by her older cousins. Sandor sat nearby, waiting for everyone to clear. Then he realised that he was hungry. It was dinner time already and everybody was down in the Great Hall, now. Except Roxanne and Sandor.

 

They stayed silent for a while. He wanted only one thing, hug her, but he was afraid she would break for good this time. Finally, Roxanne rose and went to her dormitory. Sandor too went to bed.


	7. Chapter 7

It was clear to everyone that Sandor Clegane and Roxanne Weasley weren’t together anymore. When they hung out, they were never alone and weren’t holding hands anymore. Roxanne wasn’t looking at him nor meeting him at the Owlery.

It made Sandor extremely sad and unfocused. So much that his grades started to nose dive in most areas. No one seemed to understand what had happened, especially Sandor, but he remembered that Mrs Bancroft asked him to support her. If Roxanne wanted to be left alone, he could do that. It wasn’t as if they were married or something.

Anyway, his Gryffindor classmates didn’t understand.

 

“One day she’s all head over heels about him, about how he’s not so scary any more when you try to focus on his good sides both on his face and in his heart and then she’s all like “boys are gross!” How old is she, four?” he heard Elizabeth rant before he entered the boy’s dormitory. Thomas and James seemed to agree with her.

 

The other students seemed to think it was Sandor’s fault if Roxanne looked pale as a ghost these days and the teachers, especially Professor Baratheon, were all complaining about how he shouldn’t lose his focus that way.

  


“Girls are legion, Mr. Clegane. You’re young and if you could find one despite your facial scars, you’ll find more. Now you’ll do extra homework during the Christmas Holidays to try to make up for it. Next time, I’ll dock House points.”

  


At least Roxanne was going back home for the Holidays, Sandor thought as he looked at his mail.

There was two letters from his father. One a copy Mr. Clegane Senior’s letter to the Headmistress and Admiralty board about finding it unfair that only one of his boys got to play Quidditch. The other was a longer letter about his mother. Sandor remembered her first name was Moira, but his Dad had to inform him that her maiden name had been Seivinthair.

 

_I ordered some books on Wizard Genealogy with your brother’s owl and I found out that it was in fact quite an old family she came from. She was ten times the Scott I am, son, I can tell you that! The Clegane only settled there when your grandpa started his animal coaching business, you know. I hope I could help you, with my limited means of a normal man trying to help his wizard of a son. You look more and more like her everyday in mind and action, Sandor. Keep being curious and give back good grades again. I hope your brother and you at least stay clear of each other. Of course your Dad would like it better if you two buried the hatchet. It wasn’t anyone’s fault if Aenor died…_

 

Sandor always stopped reading it there. His Dad would never understand anything.

  


*

*       *

*

  


The rain was pouring and every student witnessing the wet hell that was Slytherin against Hufflepuff had umbrellas up. Sandor had been coached by Jon Stark with the Impervius spell, though because he wanted to watch the game action per action with his old battered Quidditch binoculars since Professor Longbottom had talked to him about reconsidering the decision to ban him from the pitch. James had been elated with the news as were the other Quidditch players including Gryff Connington who was not really improving. He simply was just too afraid Bludgers would hit him.

Also, focusing on Quidditch was helping him to forget the whole Roxanne stuff. They didn’t find any evidence that she had been attacked and she didn’t remember anything aside from the fact that from the moment she was headed to the Library to her stumbling onto Mrs Bancroft, in tears for no apparent reason, was a black pit devoid of any memories. James had been all for retaliation, but Sandor had insisted he focused on the upcoming Quidditch matches instead. They would be up against the winner of Hufflepuff versus Slytherin and for now, Hufflepuff was winning.

One of their Beaters had all the Bludger control while a sixth year of the Weasley clan, Lucy, had the Quaffle monopoly. Gregor was mad about it, Sandor could see it. The older boy was yelling at Joffrey, the Seeker, for some reason, but Loras, Louis Weasley’s boyfriend, was already chasing the Snitch while Joff was gaping.

Then a lot of things happened at once.

  


Boros Blount and the main Hufflepuff Beater, wrestled for Bludger control while the secondary one, Robb Stark, managed to send the other that was bothering the Slytherin Keeper. The whole crowd had started to yell in alarm and the Hufflepuff chasers were suddenly gesticulating, yelling, apparently to Miss Tarth who was blowing into her whistle, her face red with the effort.

That’s when Sandor, who was focused on what was happening on the field, especially on the two Bludgers, felt rather than heard Gregor and Loras crash on the bleachers. Sandor watched on his left where the students were giving the fighting boys a wide berth.

Gregor Clegane was in a fury Sandor knew all too well. A fury he had endured… Loras, with his curly chestnut hair and slender figure could not withstand it. And no teacher was in sight.

 

“ _Locomotor Mortis!_ ” Sandor yelled, whipping out his wand.

 

For a second, Sandor was afraid he missed, or worse, hit Loras, but Gregor stumbled onto the Hufflepuff Seeker before muttering the counter spell under his breath _without even reaching for his wand_.

Then his devilish glare settled down on his little brother. With a gasp, Sandor tried to think of a spell that would help him. When Gregor was on him, the only thing he could think of was the Smokescreen Spell, but it was too late, Gregor had withdrawn his wand from a pocket in his green robes and Sandor felt suddenly very dizzy.

 

“I will kill you for this.” Gregor whispered in his ear, one of his huge hands closing onto his windpipe and suddenly, the younger boy couldn’t feel the floor beneath his feet anymore.

“ _Expulso!_ ” Sandor, managed to croak through the haze, gripping his olivewood wand tight and hopefully in the good direction.

 

Gregor wasn’t affected by the spell as Sandor would have liked, but at least, he was flung a few steps away, just in time for Miss Tarth to finally whistle the end of the match and Professor Baratheon and Bancroft to restrain the older boy while Sandor ended up on his knees.

 

“ _What, in the name Merlin, is happening?_ ” the voice of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall boomed, magically carried yelled throughout the stadium.

 

The rain had mercifully stopped and Sandor somehow felt relieved at this small mercy. His heart was pounding in his ribcage from the fear of Gregor and the teachers. Completely spaced out, he fumbled with his wand, trying to put it in his pocket, but not quite managing to do it. Then Loras came and took his hand.

 

“NO!” he heard him shout. “ _He saved my life!_ ”

 

Then Sandor fell, thinking last _Please don’t let the gay guy fancy me or something…_

 

*

*       *

*

  


Sandor woke up in the Hospital Wing where he was attended by Creepy Crawlies. Sorry. _Mediwizard Qyburn_. The young boy examined his hands and realised that the pain on his neck where Gregor had held him was gone. The tiredness he felt was nothing like the dizziness from whatever spell the Slytherin had cursed him with, so he guessed he wouldn’t end like the many students that disappeared under Qyburn’s care. Not that Sandor believed this gossip bullshit.

The Mediwizard insisted he stayed abed for a few days until he was sure the spell had worn off and his classmates brought him his homework in turn. When he finally came back to the Common Room, Elizabeth was in the dormitory with the boys.

 

“It’s time for retaliation, Sandor.” she said.

“Are you mad?” the boy exclaimed. “I just came back from the Hospital Wing. What do you want to do? Spit back my potions on him?”

“We’re talking about justice!” James spat. “Roxanne had none, you had none…”

“I heard Gregor got detentions and a warning…”

“He should have been expelled.” Thomas countered. “He attacked Tyrell just because he had caught the Snitch and when you defended him he attacked you.”

“And it’s not even just it!” Elizabeth added. “Gregor is bullying this whole school, crushing every student of every House, and even some teachers, under his heel. And nobody’s doing shite aside from the Headmistress and she can’t be always there to discipline...”

“Littlefinger’s Gregor’s Head of House. If you have a complaint you can go to him.” Sandor mumbled.

 

James crossed the room and seized his arm. Sandor realised that he was growing very tall, taller than his friends.

 

“We’re doing it with of without you, Clegane.” the smaller boy said. “I just thought you liked Roxanne for real and you hated your brother guts but since it’s not the case...”

 

Sandor took James’ hand and flung him away from him.

 

“You think you know what Gregor’s capable of?!” he yelled throwing the smaller boy on the floor. “I know what he’s capable of! I’ll always know! _EVERY TIME I LOOK AT MY FUCKING REFLECTION ON THE MIRROR OR HOW EVERYBODY’S LOOKING AT MY SCARS LIKE I’M A FREAK, I’LL REMEMBER! EVERY TIME I GO TO MY MUM’S AND MY SISTER’S GRAVES, I WILL!_ ”

 

The three teenagers, two on the bed, one on the floor, were looking at him with a new set of eyes, three pairs of horrified looks at the understanding of what Gregor really was.

 

“You’re not a freak.” Elizabeth peeped, almost shyly. “Gregor is. We just want to make him know that we can fight back, that we won’t suffer his bullying…”

“News flash, Beth!” Sandor barked, managing to speak without screaming. “Gregor is a murderer and no twelve years old can change shit about it!”

“Why did you try to curse him at the Quidditch match, then?” James asked.

 

Sandor didn't know how to answer that…

 

“I don’t know… I just did it!”

“You defended Loras because you didn’t want him to end up in the Hospital Wing or worse.” Elizabeth said softly.

“And look where it got me…”

“It’s normal, you’re twelve!” James said. “But we won’t be kids forever. My father had to fight bullies too and it made him stronger because you can’t become your own person when you’re being crushed by the strongest. I say you threw this spell because you’re starting to become Sandor, not Gregor’s poor little brother.”

 

Silence fell upon the dormitory.

 

“You know why I was looking at you when we were Sorted in first year?” Elizabeth said, her dark eyes two black orbs shining like steel. “My Mum had a firefighter cousin who died in a fire. You were touched by fire and you survived. But if you did just so you could continue to be a baby brother forever instead of stand up and fight, I say it wasn’t worth it and Gregor should have killed you.”

 

Her chin was up and she defiantly looked at Sandor, as if daring him to punch her. Sandor, however, was tired.

 

“Get out of my bed.” he told her.

“As you wish, _coward_.” Elizabeth flipped back.

 

Before she rose, Sandor seized her arm and twisted it. He was seeing red, he wanted to bash her head on the floor until she swallowed back this word.

 

“I’m not a coward.” he grunted.

“Prove it!” Elizabeth squeaked, her lips a harsh line, tears forming in her eyes from the pain.

 

When the rage faded and he just found himself simply physically torturing his friend, a girl, he let go of her arm. Without acknowledging Thomas’ or James’ raised wands, he threw himself into his bed and closed the curtains to cry himself to sleep in his school robes. 


	8. Chapter 8

When the summer holidays came, Sandor really started to regret having estranged his mates. First, because Dany didn’t accept him into her coaching sessions anymore for hurting Elizabeth and it showed in his Potions exam and second because he was going to spend the whole summer _there_.

  


Gregor was looking at him with one of those huge sadistic grins of his that said that he was going to die. This time it added an additional fear in him. Because this summer, Gregor was turning seventeen.

  


After the eighth of August, Sandor and his Dad will be completely screwed. Sandor really hesitated to call Mrs Ngijol, in case she’d still need some babysitting help. He would need some money to rent a room somewhere. Maybe not in the Muggle World. They’d call his Dad, while in a Wizard hotel, he could simply tell them he was Muggle and not tell a lie. He’d be attended to as long as he paid and if he didn’t, he’d be helped, even if he was ugly, he was sure of it. He was sure it would stop as soon as he finished growing up, but when he’ll be an older teenager or an adult, he’d have a less harder time to find a job of sorts.

  


Sandor decided to write to Mrs Ngijol, first. He didn’t want to call with Dad’s cell phone and end up talking to Elizabeth. He had apologized for hurting her and James physically, but he had refused to be part of their plan for retaliation against Gregor.

  


In the end, it’s an owl from Thomas that saved him.

  


_I know we’re still in this sort of weird situation where we’re just classmates and not friends anymore, but we all miss you, even Beth, though she’d cut her wand arm before she admits it. Also, we know about your brother coming of age this summer and we remember how you spent the last one pretty much like a homeless because he’s a huge arsehole. My parents left me in the Brighton flat again. We could go to the beach and I’ll invite a lot of school friends over for a party so we can sort stuff out. Or at least become friends again. Just so I’m sure you’ll come: my parents are leaving for a month and the butler is on vacation for a week in August, so yes, I’m going to throw a huge party with Firewhiskey, music and students from all ages and all houses (except the older Slytherins, you know which ones, and the Baratheon clan). So you don’t even have to hang out with us. I sincerely hope you’ll accept because we had a lot of fun last summer._

  


_I hope I’ll see you next week._

_Tom_

  


*

**

*

  


The music was loud and Thomas had mail ordered a shit ton of booze, but when Margaery Tyrell and Victoire Weasley, the hottest girls in the school, came with their retinue of popular jocks and gorgeous girls, they brought the general alcohol levels to new heights.

  


There was Weasley Wizard Wheezes products everywhere thanks to Fred and Lucy Weasley. Loras Tyrell and Louis were snogging in a corner. Roxanne was nowhere to be found, but Dany had come and so had Elizabeth and James. After saying them an awkward “hello”, Sandor’s mind was a blur of alcohol and something everybody smoke that he didn’t dare refuse when presented with (judging by the horrendous smell, he highly suspected it to be Mandragore).

  


All he knew in the morning was that excesses like these only led to horrible headaches and waking up on a small pretty red head’s lap he recognized as one of the former Gryffindor firsties to enter her second year in September. Seeing how she continued to sleep as he rose and left the bathroom they had slept in, he let her be and genuinely prayed that he didn’t do anything untoward.

  


His hopes were a bit crushed when they started to clean up the mess before the butler came back from his vacation since Thomas was teasing him.

  


“You really have a thing for redheads!” Tom said.

“Roxanne’s hair isn’t really red…”

“Yeah, but she has the gene, with her family you know. So you must have a thing for gingers.”

“Shut up and scrub.” Sandor grunted.

“You know, you’re a real softie beneath your tallness and moody ‘I am scarred and I’m tough’ act.” Thomas said, thoughtful. “No wonder all the girls like you.”

“Girls don’t like me.” Sandor groaned. “I’m ugly.”

“Yes, that’s why they just pine for you from afar, unless they know you like Roxanne did.” Tom winked again.

  


Sandor didn’t want to argue, since he always found a way to hurt somebody, even those who liked him, so he let the subject drop.

  


When the great flat was spotless and their arms all sore, they played some muggle and wizard games for two days before they could gather the energy necessary to stop slagging out on a couch or on the floor and go swimming or meeting their friends in The Scalded Frog, Brighton’s most famous Wizarding bar. Sandor always made a lot of efforts to be extra polite with the middle-aged witch that ran it so he could ask her for employment next summer. It’s during one of these outings, eating ice cream and drinking pumpkin juice (God and Merlin forbid Sandor Clegane to ever drink alcohol again!), that Elizabeth proposed him to spend the last two weeks in Croydon, baby sitting her younger siblings with her. Behind her, James’ had raised a hand making a victory sign and he was grinning.

  


Sandor accepted.

  


*

**

*

  


“Now, I know you don’t want to go against Gregor.” James said one day as they played Exploding Snap at their usual table at The Scalded Frog. “But what about Baratheon? He too runs around like he owns the place.”

“Yeah, sure. How is it my business?” Sandor asked.

“Maybe we could just give him some humility lessons.” Thomas said, nonchalantly. It made Beth giggle Merlin, he hated that sound. It meant they already had a plan.

“Joff’s uncle helped me when I was a kid.” Sandor said. “I helped you the other time because he confessed that he did me wrong. I’m not going to bother him when he’s done nothing.”

“Isn’t he annoying when he gloats about being a Seeker during Potions class and Mrs Bancroft fakes ignorance because she has a soft spot for Slutherin?” Elizabeth groaned.

“Slutherin?” Sandor grinned.

He couldn’t repress the laughter that came with it.

  


“Alright, just to reward Beth for this epic word game, I’m in. What’s the plan?” Sandor managed to say, choking on laughter.

  


His three friends were grinning so hard, Sandor wondered what exactly he had agreed to, but James’ simply revealed a piece of blank parchment.

  


“Hmm… Okay, it’s a piece of parchment.” Sandor drawled sarcastically.

  


Turning his head right and left to see if anyone was watching, James’ produced his wand from a pocket and tapped it on the blank parchment.

  


“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.” he whispered under his breath.

  


And just like that, ink started to swirl on the obviously enchanted parchment to reveal a few words

  


_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

  


Then they disappeared to make place for…

  


“Hogwarts?” Sandor asked, dumbfounded.

“Not just Hogwarts.” Elizabeth told him, pointing her finger on a specific place on the map.

  


It was the caretaker’s office where Varys Blackfyre was pacing along with Professor Petyr Baelish it seemed.

  


“Holy f…”

“Mischief managed!” James’ mumbled, the tip of his wand touching the parchment. He then rolled it and put it back in his pocket along with his wand.

  


Sandor looked at his friends with eyes as big as saucers.

  


“This map is gold in bars, guys.” he said. “I don’t want to miss anything of what you’re going to do with it!”

“I didn’t ask yet because I wanted Sandor to be there for it…” Thomas said. “But who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?”

“I have an idea. “James said. “I nicked it from my father’s office, but I already heard him talk about the father of his godson by calling him Moony. Since he was a werewolf, I guess it makes sense. He was friends with my grandfather, the one I’m named after. One of them must be him and another his best friend, my Dad’s godfather. That’s where my middle name comes from… No clue about who could be the last one, though.”

“James, Sirius and… What was his name already?” Elizabeth repeated.

“Remus.”

“You know what?” Thomas asked, a scary grin etched onto his pretty boy’s face. “Maybe we should form a band to be their heirs of sorts… We’d call ourselves like they did.”

“The Marauders?” Elizabeth asked. “Or just the individual nicks? Because I am pretty sure no one here wants to be called Wormtail.”

“Amen.” Sandor and Thomas said in unison, raising their pumpkin juice glasses.

“Maybe not exactly. We could make our own names based on theirs.” James said. “I can’t think of someone else but Remus Lupin being Moony and two of those are from my family, I can’t give them away to just anyone like that.”

“You could be the Stagkiller.” Thomas said, referencing to their feud with Joffrey.

“Sounds pretty fun.” James agreed.

“Sounds lame.” Sandor said.

“I second that.” Elizabeth added with a scowl.

“Maybe just Stag.” Sandor proposed. “I know Joff’ll be really pissed you stole his family’s coat of arms.”

  


The Baratheon stag was on their crest since the seventeenth century, to hear Mrs Baratheon’s rambling about wizard genealogy and fun facts when Sandor was living with them.

  


“Yeah, that’s pretty neat!” James said. “Everything to please our dear Prince Joffrey.”

“I suppose Elizabeth will be Moony.” Thomas said then with a teasing smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she hissed, seeming furious.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

  


Sandor was ashamed, but he laughed and offered an apologetic glance to the girl.

  


“I’ll wear it like a badge of honor.” Elizabeth said. “From hence forth I shall be named Lunatic!”

  


Thomas turned to Sandor.

  


“There’s no way I’m a Wormtail.” he said, raising his finger in a warning.

“I wasn’t thinking about that.” Tom said, his smile enigmatic. “I was thinking about ditching Wormtail altogether. I want to be called The Bard.”

“Like Beedle?” James asked.

“Who’s Beedle?” the two Muggleborns simultaneously asked.

  


James’ was too dumbfounded about the fact that people didn’t know the Tales of Beedle the Bard, but Sandor saved it.

  


“I’ll try to find my little sister’s copy, if it didn’t disappear and I’ll lend it to you.”

“Isn’t it at the Library?” Beth asked.

“Probably not. It’s a children’s book.” Sandor answered. “They probably think every magican children know the tales already.”

“Anyway, I was thinking.” Thomas said. “We should make a book or a tale out of our adventures.”

“Because we’re going to have adventures, now?” Sandor asked sarcastically.

“Of course, we’re going to have adventures!” Elizabeth said as if he was dumb.

  


Sandor let it drop.

  


“I’ll be Thomas Pratchett, the Bard and official biographer of the Marauders!”

  


Sandor scoffed at the name.

“I thought we were going to pick names related to those on the map and not rip them off.”

“Maybe we could keep the Marauder’s since we’re going to uphold their legacy.” James said. “I don’t mind. But what is Sandor’s nickname?”

“Please, don’t make it too horrible.” Sandor pleaded, seeing how his mates were looking at him.

  


And as he suspected, Sandor didn’t have a choice and it wasn’t entirely too bad.

  


*

**

*

  


Thomas only had to call him “Hound” once before it spread like wildfire in the school. Even the firsties knew who he was, whose brother he was and why the latter was dangerous though the former was ok if you didn’t bother him. Sometimes, Sandor wondered if Thomas planted those rumours himself… Then he heard that he got his burns battling a dragon for three days straight until Daenerys rescued him, flying on a dragon herself and there was no more doubt about it. The Bard and The Stag were prancing like the kings of Hogwarts hall, winking at girls in their new robes fitting their taller figures that started to resemble men’s while Lunatic bounced around them, like the cool girl she was. Sandor was amused, but maintained a somber air every time they were walking the corridors between classes and since he grew again and towered over about everyone safe some fifth year and most sixth year boys, he looked quite scary to everyone and The Hound’s reputation was thus cemented.

  


Sandor surprisingly liked the nickname despite Thomas being a bit of an arsehole who liked to scare people or snob them just because he could who still managed to be a cool and popular with a clique. Or maybe was it simply because he knew how to be a nice guy who listened to people without showing it. Sandor personally thought he just had a flair for the dramatic. Thomas Pratchett was going to be one hell of a fucking Daily Prophet columnist one day. So Sandor cherished the name for it reminded him of his Grandfather.

  


Gramps had died when he was very little, but every time he conjured up the blurry short memories he had of him, he remembered soft and leathery skin and hugs that could have been given by the Whomping Willow. He remembered lemon cakes and the bitter scent of the dogs he trained for his customers, mostly in the Inverness area and mostly hunting hounds, according to Dad, though he did take in some pretty pugs and corgis who peed on overpriced carpets from London on the side.

  


The only one whose nickname didn’t stick was Elizabeth. Lunatic didn’t fit her. She was indeed crazy, but Thomas kept telling her it was too pejorative considering her place in the Marauders who were cool people. When he said that, she stormed out of the boy’s dormitory and while she climbed down the stairs, she yelled:

  


“I don’t care! I’m Love and Justice, so fuck you!”

“You can’t be Sailor Moon, we’re wizards, not Magical Girls!” Thomas answered, yelling down the stairs.

“What’s a sailor moon?” James’ asked.

“We’ll show you one day.” Sandor said, his mood turning darker than he thought.

  


When Aenor died, Sailor Moon Crystal had just debuted and Sandor upon surfing the Internet had found it and thought it would be something she’d enjoy. They only got to watch the first episode together when Gregor pushed her down the stairs, Sandor didn’t even bother continuing while living in a wizarding household. It was a girls show anyway, he consoled himself.

  


The morning after, at breakfast, everybody, mostly the Gryffindor table, was whispering about how Elizabeth was in fact The Moon to The Stag, Hound and Bard.

  


Sandor hadn’t laughed so hard since he was very little and it made his scars open and bleed on his bacon and eggs. It hurt like hell, and he was pretty angry he missed Defense Against the Dark Arts because of the quick trip to the Hospital Wing, but his friends smiling at his genuine outburst were worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone likes this, please tell me, I'm trying to end this fic, but I have a new client and a job to find before August...


	9. Chapter 9

Weasley Wizard Wheezes was very happy to have official field testers in the New Marauders. The staff, especially Varys and his spiders, weren’t very happy about it. Joffrey was the main target, but every time The Moon was hearing about someone who bullied a firstie, even in another House’s Common Room, the brute was doomed and would end up being stuck in a Mini-Portable Swamp or his bag filled with Fizzy-Pop Powder that would transform its contents into exploding (and edible) popcorn.

  


Great envergure traps were reserved to the Slytherin House, which wasn’t very smart, Sandor remarked because it really narrowed it down the Gryffindor’s House and some of the shit they used wasn’t even released yet, putting a lot of teacher scrutiny on the Weasley-Potter Clan. They would then use the map and set up elaborate traps with a lot of precision and sneak out at night while avoiding teacher and prefect patrols. Dany’s help even became invaluable when it came to Wheezes that came with few instructions, mostly because she was the Potion genius to James’ talent for Charms. She however refused to become The Dragon and part of the Marauders.

  


“I’m a Targaryen.” she simply said. “I don’t need more attention.”

  


Joffrey Baratheon, Meryn Trant, Boros Blount and Arys Oakheart were dipped in tar and feathers, bewitched to have their noses transform into snouts and trunks once they drank pumpkin juice, they of course had their things turned into pop-corn during class and their eyebrows grow immeasurably long (a classic if there was one, but the best pranks are the simplest).

  


Sandor’s life had become really great. When he stepped into Herbology class, professor Longbottom had confirmed that he would be able to play Quidditch, if he passed the tryouts this year. Then they set up the Maraudeurs and he started Divination and Care of Magical Creature’s class. While the former was ridiculously hard, the second was awesome as Hagrid was teaching them how to bond with Hippogriffs. It was dangerous, but Sandor was strangely unafraid when he stared into the noble beast’s eyes and bowed. Sometimes, Dany, Sandor and James would visit Hagrid on the week-ends and get to fly on Sandor’s favourite Hippogriff, Buck Junior. Roxanne and Thomas didn’t take Care of Magical Creatures but Ancient Runes with Dany who disliked Divination heavily and had a preference for Arithmancy.

  


However, Muggle Studies, which Sandor took as a third elective in case he needed free credits, was a bore. The syllabus was stuck in the eighties. He still got to make a presentation about his favourite piece of technology and ended up talking about the Internet and how awesome it was for the whole double class. He really put professor Elder into his pocket with that one.

  


“You must be really bored in here. The school has made progress to update the syllabus, but the Board of Governors is still filled with pompous old wizards and witches that don’t think that blending in and upholding the Statute of Secrecy is a useful skill. They forget that Aurors sometimes have to go undercover and pass for Muggles. I hope you will stick around for the NEWT classes, these are much more advanced. I try to make at least a field trip per year in several Muggle venues and I have more liberties with the lesson plans. You could even assist me!”

  


Sandor felt a bit embarrassed and said he would consider it. He probably wouldn’t assist professor Elder, but maybe staying around for extra credits would be nice in case he failed something like Potions.

  


Roxanne had reverted to her shy ways of their first year and she didn’t talk much with Sandor. He decided to heed professor Baratheon’s advice and let it drop. He could understand being afraid of monsters and even if his mates assured him he wasn’t, he still felt like he could be one. Besides, the second year he woke up with at Thomas’ summer party seemed to be terrified of him now.

  


_Merlin, God, Buddha, Allah, whatever, please don’t make me a drunk and a rapist._ He often prayed whenever he crossed her path.

  


*

**

*

  


Playing Quidditch was even better than Sandor thought it’d be. His fellow beater, Berric Dondarrion, a seventh year, made him go through drills so hard, Sandor thought his arms would fall off. Then they would play with the rest of the team and it was Martell’s turn to become a tyrant. Their first match would be against Hufflepuff.

  


“Now… Professor Baratheon is always angry about it, being their Head of House and all,” Oberyn said. “But their team usually bait you into fouls easily avoided. Don’t answer their provocations and we’ll crush them like the insects they are!”

“AYE!” the team yelled.

  


And crush them they did. Oberyn caught the Snitch after a long chase with Loras Tyrell on his heels. Turned out Martell had a few tricks up his sleeve too. Or rather down his pants.

  


“I can’t believe you had the nerve to do it!” Ygritte laughed as they undressed in the lockers room.

“I still think we shouldn’t have played the Hufflepuff’s game.” Jon said, not agreeing the least bit with this literally “below the belt” tactic.

“What, are you embarrassed about seeing my butt, Stark?” the older boy told the Chaser.

“Better than that, I think he liked it.” James teased, childishly while he donned his regular black wizard robes.

  


When they left the pitch, they were welcomed in the Common Room by Thomas, standing on a table and yelling about some party that was just getting started. Sandor groaned when he smelled the familiar smell of Firewhiskey under his nose, where Elizabeth was holding a glass to him with a huge smile.

  


“Just one.” Sandor said.

  


*

**

*

  


Just one meant a shit ton of alcohol being poured intravenously into Sandor’s system, but he realised that if he didn’t smoke Mandragore pot, he could hold it quite well.

“It’s so good you’re so tall.” James moaned on his lap. “I’m sure the alcohol doesn’t get to you because of that.”

“Whatever you say, Thumbelina.” Elizabeth said, sounding fresh, though her hair was in disarray, her robes crumpled and her breath rank of the all the Liquorice Wands she mixed in her Vodka bowl.

Sandor thought it extremely creepy that they drank so much at the wee age of thirteen years old. Thankfully, the prefects managed to contain the spread of it to even younger students. Not that it stopped a daring red head first year called Rose Weasley to down said Liquorice flavoured Vodka bowl on a dare. Actually, her fainting was what convinced Oberyn to actually stop the pouring of anything stronger than Butterbeer and usher the most wasted among the students to their beds.

  


The morning after, the headache was less hard than the one they got in the Summer, but the boys enjoyed a good morning in their own beds, not even bothered by Elizabeth who was nursing a hangover herself in her own dormitory.

  


Until Christmas, they spent a rather ordinary time being the Marauders, defending the weak against the bullies and asserting themselves as general badasses who didn’t take shit, unless they wanted James and Thomas to throw them spells. Then, he was invited to the Weasley’s for the winter break.

  


They were a rambunctious bunch. The house was overcrowded and red hair was everywhere, peppered with auburn and strawberry blonde with the exception of James’ jet black hair, Fred and Roxanne’s light brown and Ted Lupin’s… Well… Whatever rocked his boat at the moment!

It was a wonderful week at the Weasley’s where Sandor got to properly meet Harry Potter, James’ Dad, and his mother, the talented Holyhead Harpies Ginny Potter.

  


Upon seeing her, Sandor reconsidered Thomas remarks about him and red heads. She was his favourite British Chaser and she was gorgeous despite being his best mate’s mother. Maybe he had a fetish… Too bad all the girls in the Weasley clan seemed to look at his scar with pity. The grandmother was especially mothering and kept talking about how one could mask curse induced scars (with the exception of little Lily who was much more like Elizabeth in that regard).

  


“Well, Healers looked at my scar and no one found a way to conceal it, so I’d rather you drop the subject, Mrs Weasley.” Sandor firmly told her on Christmas day as calmly as he could. She had made him a yellow jumper with three black dogs on it after all and she definitely didn’t have to invite his rude grumpy scarred self and did it anyway for her grandson, so he had to try not to be so rude to her.

  


Anyway, she got the message. As for the Weasley men and Harry Potter, they were treating him as any would a boy his age, asking about how classes went, if James wasn’t corrupting him too much. When he said his favourite classes were Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charlie Weasley and Harry Potter started to talk to him more about what he wanted to do when he grew up. It was really embarrassing, especially where Mr Potter was concerned. Sandor didn’t feel worthy of the attention of the Boy Who Lived To Triumph.

At the same time, he liked this kind of attention. Dad didn’t really know what kind of jobs you could get as a wizard and only knew of the possibility to become a professional at Quidditch since he could relate. He used to play rugby when he was younger and he had entertained the hopes of going pro back in the day. Since there was only Gregor now, he couldn’t confide in anyone and being a guest in a big family of wizard made him acquainted with a lot of different careers he wanted to know more about. Except Dragon Handling. Viserys Targaryen and Gregor made sure he would never be less than a hundred miles near a dragon. Even Dany’s pictures of Drogon, the huge Hebridean Black she was to ride when she was older as the Targaryen tradition demanded, flipped him out.

  


While they were helping with the chores, Mrs Hermione (there were too much Mrs Weasleys not to call them by their given name), described him the different jobs in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at length, but it seemed boring. Mr Potter regaled the kids with the good sides of his adventures as an Auror and Sandor thought it was pretty cool. Besides, he was pretty sure Defense of the Dark Arts was the highlight of it and it was already his favourite.

  


After Christmas, Thomas invited him for New Year’s eve. He finally got to meet the Pratchett parents and though they seemed to find his scars somewhat offensive, they managed to stay polite and not talk about it. It was not difficult to imagine where Thomas had learned his rich boy douchebaggery, his mother was a Muggle version of Cersei Baratheon. They also seemed like terrible parents to Sandor. They didn’t care where Thomas went unless they needed their golden boy to be a perfect only son at their parties and Bard even confessed that he invited him because he knew they would not be such horrible hosts as to let Sandor alone while they went to some New Year Charity Gala.

  


“Dad is petitioning for some form of ennoblement.” Thomas said. “At least knighthood, but he’d like a proper title with it.”

“And he’s trying to do that with parties?” Sandor whispered, dumbfounded.

“Kind of…” Thomas answered.

“It’s stupid. Knights are the embodiment of good stuff, not the embodiment of throwing galleons around.” Sandor said.

“I agree.” Thomas nodded as he gave the last hit to Malthael with his Witch Doctor. “Want to go on another Act Five run?”

“Let’s play something else.” Sandor said, putting the old and worn PS3 controller on the floor.

  


Of course Thomas had planned a new party for New Year’s Eve, but this time they would have less time to clean up since they were at the Kensington Mansion so they only invited friends, mostly Gryffindor students they liked. Thomas had the nerve to invite the redhead from the previous summer and Sandor was scared.

  


The music wasn’t so loud and the hard liquor were thus drunk with more moderation than the previous parties, making Sandor realize how gross they were and how they burned his throat. He was making small talk with Dany when the girl came up to him:

  


“Mind if I sit?” she asked.

  


Sandor didn’t know what to say, but in a second, Dany had disappeared and he was alone with the red headed girl. She was stealing glances at him and it made him nervous, especially since he couldn’t remember shit about anything that might have happened last summer.

  


“Hmm… What’s your name already?” he asked.

  


_Smooth, Sandor. Really smooth._

  


“I’m Amanda.” she said. “Amanda Stokeworth. Second year.”

  


He noticed that her hands were fiddling with a bottle of Butterbeer.

  


“Hm. Right. Hm. I’m…”

“The Hound. I know.” she cut him. “I… I wanted to apologize for last summer.”

“Hmm… What for?” he asked.

“I was drunk and I called you a freak and then we made out.” she said, her cheeks reddening.

“Did we…” Sandor asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

“NO!” she suddenly exclaimed. “You were angry because I insulted you and then we kissed and you cried and you puked on my shoes so I brought you to the loo…” she continued.

“And then?” he asked again.

“You puked some more, I gave you water and then you were calling for your mother and someone named Aenor.” she added. “It was…”

“Embarrassing.” Sandor completed.

“Yeah.” she nodded.

  


Well, crying his eyeballs out for his Mum and puking on a girl’s shoes. Better than sexual assault or any kind of assault for that matter. They stayed silent for a while, enjoying music and Butterbeer. Sandor noticed that Roxanne was chatting up with Thomas and looked pleased and not shy, restrained and aloof. It made him somewhat happy. Then he felt a hand wiggle his way into the crook of his arm.

  


“Err… What’s your name already?” Sandor asked for the second time.

“Amanda.” she answered, looking at him with a glint in her eyes that made him uncomfortable.

“Hmm… Well, thanks for the clarification, Amanda.” Sandor said. “I’m…”

“Let’s make out!” she suddenly blurted out.

  


Dumbfounded, Sandor let himself be kissed sloppily by the younger girl.

  


*

**

*

  


Amanda Stokeworth was clingy and insisted he accompanied her to all of her classes and that they snog in the middle of the Common Room. She kissed with the tongue, something Sandor grew used to surprisingly quickly, and her palms were sweaty but it didn’t remove the enjoyable part of it: she usually tried to cup his face on his bad side. Though he could see she was forcing herself, he found it brave of her to like him despite his scars and try to accept them. Roxanne had always been careful with them, as if it was fragile or disgusting. But in the end, they were together for only one month while Amanda and him would soon hit their third month of snogging in corridors.

  


She was always at the Quidditch pitch during training and on the day of the Gryffindor against Slytherin, in addition to her red robes, had enchanted a banner with his name on it. Beside her, Elizabeth had a similar one that read JAMES POTTER BEST CHASER, so he didn’t know who had the idea first but both banners filled his heart and made him enter the game with less apprehension. This would be the first game he played against Gregor. The Headmistress was attending as well as all the teachers. Himself had concealed his olivewood wand in his robes, just in case.

  


The match started all normal. Gregor was his usual self, taking possession of the Quaffle and if he didn’t have it, becoming a living Bludger, albeit one Sandor couldn’t beat with his bat. _Sadly_ , he thought.

  


The match below was a tie. Beric and him kept sending Bludgers to the Slytherin players to no avail. If it was aimed at a Keeper, the Quaffle always ended up in Slutherin control and Gregor shrugged Bludgers off without even Trant or Blount helping him.

  


Gregor was a raving beast on the field who threw the Quaffle rather than simply launch it and didn’t hesitate to manhandle the Gryffindor Chasers, prompting Miss Tarth to whistle more often than not.

  


The cold cloudless February morning gave way to a warmer afternoon, making Sandor’s fingers feel grateful. They were still at a hundred and fifty points to a hundred and forty with the advantage to the green and silver players, when Oberyn caught sight of the snitch. Thankfully, both Beric and Sandor had control of the Bludgers and immediately beat them in the direction of Joffrey Baratheon who was far enough from the Gryffindor Seeker, but more obstacles couldn’t be a bad thing for their House. However, if Oberyn caught the Snitch now, they would lose the match by ten points… Was this a ruse? Was the Snitch in a completely different direction? Oberyn was a shrewd snake most of the time, it most probably was a bluff but thankfully, the whole Slytherin team fell into the trap.

  


Gregor started to fly toward Oberyn, Quaffle in hand and threw it at the Gryffindor player who gracefully kicked it in Ygritte’s general direction. The red haired girl caught it and Oberyn took his place back high in the sky while Joffrey was frantically looking for it everywhere. Sandor wanted to laugh. The Hound had finally set his eyes on the Snitch itself. Their Keeper, Fred, was being extra careful when he flew around the three hoops of the Gryffindor goals so he wouldn’t fly too much on the left and scare it away. When James scored through Walda Frey’s goals, Gregor hot on his tail, Oberyn slowly made his way to their own hoops, seized the Snitch as carefully as if it was a Puffskein and kissed it before raising his hand.

  


Obviously, the Gryffindor partied really hard during the night. Thankfully, before Sandor was forced to smoke a pot reeking of Mandragore, professor Longbottom surprised them by entering the Common Room.

  


“Oh, don’t act as if I didn’t know you were drinking alcohol on school grounds.” he said. “I’ve been a teenager too. Now give me all the Red Mandragore you’ve got Mr Martell.”

  


Despite the illicit substance and most of the alcohol being confiscated and the students hushed back into their dormitories, the tower didn’t get any calmer. People were really too excited and from everywhere one could hear that every dormitory in the tower was simply having tinier parties. At one point, Elizabeth, Dany and Amanda joined the third year boy’s dorm and they drank Butterbeer. Amanda even stayed to sleep with Sandor and he fell into a deep slumber with her nestled on his torso. He woke up with a stiff member in the morning, thankfully well before she woke up, so he could slip under an icy shower.

  



	10. Chapter 10

Amanda was sweet. Or maybe she was. When they were together, they made out or they held hands. They didn’t talk much he realised. And once the euphoria of being loved begun to morph into an obligation to maintain a relationship and to smuggle a second year to Hogsmeade on the week-end, Sandor was at a loss.

  


Thankfully, the Easter break consisted of a private Marauder reunion at Daenerys’.

  


“I thought you didn’t want to be a Marauder?” James had asked when she proposed her place for their reunion.

“Maybe not in public.” she said with a wink. “I mean, you would have been caught with exploding devices if not for me, I might as well give you use of the Manse.”

“So we’re officially not the Marauders, guys.” Elizabeth said. “We’re the fucking Elite Four and Dany’s the Champion.”

“Moon.” Sandor said.

“Yes?”

“Nobody cares about Pokémons.” he answered dryly.

“Why aren’t you with Amanda at her parents country home?” she countered.

  


Sandor fell silent. He didn’t want to talk about it. However, it felt so strange to the girls that the subject was brought up again while they were attempting to add the Room of Requirements to the Marauder’s map.

  


“Really, I never saw you speak aside ‘let’s make out’ or ‘when can I be seen with the Hound, this great bad boy and Quidditch player that’s also friend with James Potter’.” Dany said, her voice turning into a shrill when she imitated Amanda. It was insulting and yet, Sandor didn’t feel the urge to defend his girlfriend. In fact, he started to think about it and remember a moment when they talked about something that wasn’t Quidditch or planning one of their dates that would consist primarily of kisses and sometimes even a little bit of groping.

  


“Can you see the big vein on Sandor’s temple?” Thomas suddenly burst in like he was in an infomercial. “It’s the sign of the Hound’s intense thinking. Now this Hound must be trying to solve the biggest problem that Humankind has faced. Is the Hound trying to heal the Dragonpox with the sole power of his mind?”

“Shut up Bard!” the Hound barked.

“No really, were you trying to remember the last time Amanda opened her mouth and you didn’t shut her up with your own?” James asked.

  


With a sigh, Sandor rose from the dragon hide covered couch and left for Dragonstone’s huge domain. He needed to think without Bard and Stag making fun of him.

  


Should he leave Amanda? He didn’t really like her, in the end, he realised. She was just someone who was willing to kiss him while holding his bad cheek with her hand and even sometimes was brave enough to plant a light kiss on it. What if she loved him? Then he’d be breaking her heart! But girls prefered to be with dudes who liked them too, didn’t they?

  


_This is fucking unbelievable…_

  


“Hey! Sandor!”

  


Behind him, Elizabeth was flying a broom, clumsily trying to join him. It was his broom, Sandor noticed when she was closer and one of the reasons for her bad flying at such a low altitude was that she was holding another older one.

  


“I know you stop thinking when you fly.” she said, dismounting Sandor’s broom and hopping on the other. “And you definitely need to stop thinking.” she added, sounding determined to help him clear his mind.

  


Sandor smiled and they both rose to the skies above the Targaryen domain. Elizabeth wasn’t going really fast, she wasn’t used to fly, even if she had been a good student in Miss Tarth’s class. Her friend helped her right her position even more and have a tighter and more secure grip on the older broom before he challenged her to a race.

  


Elizabeth was right. By the time they were back on the ground and the Targaryen House Elf hushed them in for dinner, Sandor felt lighter. When their bellies were full, he announced:

  


“I’m going to dump Stokeworth.”

  


He was still dumbfounded when his friends applauded as if he was a freaking rock star.

  


Dany and Elizabeth helped him pen a letter.

  


“You weren’t even close. A letter is enough.” Dany said.

“But you still have to be mindful of her feelings and tell her you can still be friend or that she can come and talk to you any time as mates.” Elizabeth added.

  


Thankfully, the girl’s helped keep the headache to a minimum and it was sent with James’ owl.

  


“Not another girl’s owl, of course! Even I know that!” Thomas snorted when he tried to tie the missive to Dany’s eagle owl.

  


Sandor felt quite light after sending the letter. Happy even.

  


*

**

*

  


“Can I speak to Sandor? Alone?” she said, looking shy.

  


Sandor glanced at his friends and they all rose to move out of the compartment. He could see an Extendable Ear Mark II poking its wormlike end, failing to camouflage properly, stuck as it was in the closed door.

  


Amanda didn’t look so shy when the door clicked shut. In fact, she looked overly confident and smug. Sandor didn’t like it and now that he was looking at her face, he realised how particularly ugly she looked with her skin whitened with cosmetics and her eyes blackened with a pencil on her too young face. Even her hair was not pretty, it was looking like orange straw.

  


“How dare you dump me that way?” she huffed and puffed in a haughty manner.

“I’m sorry?” Sandor asked. “I don’t like you. I thought girls had feelings and stuff.”

“I don’t care about feelings.” Amanda hissed. “You should be grateful anyone would put up with you. You can’t afford to dump me.”

“Oh, really?” Sandor said, his voice becoming that of his angry self.

“Yes. After what you’ve done to the Weasley girl, what would happen if I was to get out of this room in tears and say you’ve been forcing me to do stuff I wasn’t ready for?” she threatened, her voice a honeyed venom.

  


_How could I have been so blind._

  


“Fuck you.” Sandor said, trying to open the door.

“ _Collaportus!_ ” she exclaimed. “If you are not holding my hand at dinner, I’ll tell everyone you raped me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sandor asked, dumbfounded. “I don’t like you and you don’t like me but you don’t have to be that mean just for Hogsmeade week-ends. You can even go by yourself, you know the secret passage now and next year you’ll be able to go without sneaking around anyway.”

“Fuck Hogsmeade!” she shrieked. “You have to stay my boyfriend!”

“I’m not a friend of people who just want me because my friends are popular!” Sandor grunted. “ _Alohomora_. Now get out of my sight.”

“I’ll ruin you, Hound!” she yelled.

“No you won’t, bitch.” Sandor said. “I have friends. You have no one.”

“That’s what you think.” she scoffed.

  


But when Amanda reached the door, she was greeted by Sandor’s classmates looking at her in a haughty and threatening manner, even Roxanne. Sandor was happy he had friends who helped him realise he was better off without this stupid bitch.

  


At the feast, the Marauders plus two were paying extra attention to a seething Sandor that could barely contain his anger and shame. Amanda was playing the part of the abused girl friend with perfection, looking subdued and frightened. Her second year friends were trying to make her eat, but Sandor knew she had stuffed her ugly face with sweets on the train so it would be easier to ignore the delicious cooking of Hogwarts House Elves.

  


The morning after, the whispering began again. Mostly about where Sandor’s sexual preferences lay. He was so angry he almost blew up the notebook he was supposed to transform into a plan.

  


“Mr Clegane, you used to be more focused, even last year.” Professor Baelish admonished him. “Maybe five points taken from Gryffindor will be motivation enough.”

“Great. I lost House points over this bitch, now.” he mumbled through his teeth.

  


Dany and Beth were always at his left and right, leaving James and Thomas behind with Roxanne. He didn’t know if it was to dispel the rumours by showing girls shouldn’t be afraid of the Hound or because they were better at the Disarming Spell than the boys and would make him hit the dirt if he ever whipped his wand out.

  


When James proposed that they retaliate against anyone defaming him, he panicked.

  


“I don’t want to bully anyone because they’re stupid enough to believe hearsay.”

“It’s almost the end of the year, anyway.” Thomas said. “Everybody will have forgotten it come summer.”

  


In the meantime, Amanda was still playing the victim and Sandor was ignoring her, moving out of the Common Room every time she entered it and having his meals very far from her. When the rumour reached the teachers, Sandor denied it vehemently to Professor Longbottom and of course, having dear friends and witnesses further helped along his case.

  


“Mr. Clegane…” Professor Longbottom called when Sandor and James were about to leave his office. “No… It’s…”

“Professor Longbottom? Are you alright?” Sandor asked.

  


He glanced at James. His friend went to his father’s friend and asked:

  


“Uncle Neville?”

“James, not in front of other students.”

“Right professor…”

  


Longbottom looked tired and he sighed before he said:

  


“I don’t know what Mrs Baratheon and her father are playing at, but your brother and you have very unusual problems for two teenagers, Mr. Clegane…”

“Mrs Baratheon doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Sandor said. “She kicked me out of her house.”

“And she welcomed your brother instead.” his Herbology teacher said.

  


A weight settled on Sandor’s stomach. He didn’t know that.

  


“I think she wants to use you, either of you, to what end I don’t know, why, I don’t know… But it has come to my attention that Amanda’s sister, Lollys, is in Slytherin and has been very, very close to Joffrey Baratheon’s clique. The Board of Governors is completely under his mother’s thumb and Tywin Lannister has managed the no small feat to…”

  


Professor Longbottom sighed again.

  


“I shouldn’t bother young souls with that. I just want you to be careful, Sandor. Especially around the Lannister-Baratheon clan...”

“So it’s a conspiracy?” Sandor exclaimed. “Against a Muggle raised boy with scars?”

“I should not have burdened you further with my wild theories. Mr. Potter, Mr. Clegane, please go back to your Common Room.”

“But Uncle Neville...”

“Ten points from Gryffindor.” the teacher cut him dry, reverting to a stern teacher posture and showing them the door.

  


*

**

*

  


_Dear boy of mine,_

_How are you doing? I’m writing you because I miss you. I know you don’t want to come because of Gregor, but he will be away all of July, so can you please stay with me more than two weeks? I feel like we should catch up. Last I saw you was last summer, you must’ve grown even more since then. The Clegane’s are tall and your Mummy told me that her own dad was flirting with the clouds so I guess you should have become a giant now. And don’t tell me giants exist for real, I don’t want to know. Just send me a letter if you’re coming back to Culladon._

  


_Dad._

  


Elizabeth had the same kind of letter, despite being home every year for Christmas. Muggle parents seemed to try and deal with their estranged children with a various array of methods. Mrs Ngijol was for example sending a detailed accounts of her other siblings activities every month.

  


“Though lately it’s been mostly about Tamara and Gerold. I think they might be magical too because Tams changed her hair to green when Mum tried to comb it and Gerold is animating his drawings. Mostly dragons. He loves those.”

“I always said he’d get along well with Dany.” Sandor said, carefully penning an answer to his dad.

  



End file.
